


Empty Glasses

by Page_of_Cups



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cuckolding, Cunnilingus, Drunk Sex, Dry Humping, F/M, Female Apprentice (The Arcana), Fluff, Light Bondage, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, POV First Person, Plot, Post-Canon, Pregnancy Scares, Teasing, Threesome - F/M/M, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vaginal Sex, whatever the opposite of a slow burn is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2019-09-14 14:29:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16914624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Page_of_Cups/pseuds/Page_of_Cups
Summary: Julian and the apprentice get hands-on after a night at the Rowdy Raven... and have to face some uncomfortable realizations the next morning.





	1. Salty Bitters

Julian and I sit cross-legged on the kitchen floor of the shop with about half the food in the house laid out between us. It’s the middle of the night, and we just got back from the Rowdy Raven. Despite being more than a little drunk, we somehow managed to follow Malak all the way back here. We tried our best to take our shoes off at the door, but Julian only got one of his boots off before deciding the effort wasn’t worth it and giving up on the second. I insisted I’d throw up and refused to eat anything at the tavern, but now that I was finally home, I feel absolutely ravenous.

“This bread is so good, Julian. So good. Try it,” I insist with my mouth full as I shove the loaf in his face. “This is the best bread. It’s my favourite bread. So good.”

Julian obliges and tears off a chunk.

“Oof, there’s crumbs everywhere! Here, let me get them,” Julian says as he haphazardly slaps the floor in the proximity of the mess.

“Noooo, no, it’s a treat for Malak for later. He’ll like it. Leave it,” I say, swatting his hands as he continues to try to clean. “No, Julian, leave it. Leave it. Leave it.” He pulls his hands away from the floor, but I continue to bat at them until he weaves his fingers into mine. I wave our hands in the air a moment before releasing them and crawling to him. He adjusts his sitting posture to accommodate me. With a knee planted on the outside of each of his hips, I sit down indelicately on his thighs so we are facing each other. I lean into him for support and lay my face on his shoulder. He smells the musky way one would expect a man to smell after chasing a pissed off bird halfway across the city, but something about his scent draws me in regardless.

“Julian, Jules. Jules. You smell so good. So good. It’s my favourite smell. So good.”  My hands move down his chest and clumsily start fiddling with the buttons of the jacket he hadn’t bothered to remove earlier.

“You know, back in my pirate days, there was this one time that they said that I had to climb up the crow’s nest, so I did.” Julian picks me up, sets me down gently next to him, jumps to his feet, and mimes climbing up a mast. “I climbed up the crow’s nest and looked over everything, and it was so beautiful. It was all just peaceful water as far as I could see - forever and ever and ever.” He throws a straightened arm out in front of himself and spins his whole body around. “Everything was peaceful and calm. I needed to tell them there was just more water and nothing to worry about, so, anyway, I tried shouting and they didn’t hear me, of course, because I was so far up. I tried to climb down, but I was going faster than I could handle and got caught in the ropes -not that I minded being caught in the ropes, of course.” He winks. “But, I fell out of the crow’s nest and landed on the pirate captain. I was worried he was going to be upset, but really, what would he have done about it? You’re afforded a bit of leniency when you’re the only doctor on a ship - I’m sure it’s much the same for magicians.” He pats my head. “So, I fell out of the crow’s nest-” He throws himself dramatically on the floor, but lands in a provocative pose on his stomach with his legs splayed behind himself. His palms press into the floor, and the weight of his upper body is being supported by his straight arms in a cobra pose. He leans into my ear and whispers the rest of his story. “- and the captain caught me and said my hair smelled nice.”

“You tell that story every time you’re drunk. And then the captain took you to his quarters and showed you how to properly tie a knot. Yes.” I pull one of his wrists out from under him and lift it above his head as far as I can reach. Julian wobbles and falls against the cabinet. “You know, pirate captains aren’t the only ones who know how to tie you up.”

He shoots me a seductive look and returns to the sitting position he was in before his histrionics. I return to my sitting position in his lap. He lifts his free hand above his head, offering it to me.

“Oh?” I can feel his cock twitch through our clothes and forcefully rub myself against it. His face flushes and I try his buttons again. Frustrated, I pull the clasp and pop one off. It flies across the room and lands with a tiny thunk.

“Shit, I’ll magic that back on in the morning. Now, ropes. Why don’t we go upstairs and I’ll show you?”

“Of course, darling, but first, you really need to drink some water.”

I hop off of him and scramble onto the counter to reach the glasses on the top shelf. Julian stands up to spot me but dips as he gets up and has to hold the counter for support. As soon as I grab one of the glasses, it slips from my hand and smashes on the floor, shattering into a million little pieces.

“Stay, ah, stay there,” Julian says. “No, don’t grab another one! Allow me. Stay there.” He reaches over my head and fills the glass from the tap. Julian sets the glass down, and holding firmly onto the counter, he hops around it on his shoed foot. I carefully reach for the glass then crawl toward him. He watches as I sit up with feet dangling over the edge and reminds me to drink the water.

“How much did you drink? You’re unusually messy,” Julian asks.

“Just the three salty bitters we had together - which are disgusting, by the way.”

“Of course they are; you only had three. Need a few more before they even approach tolerable.”

“How many did _you_ have?”

Julian rattles off the drinks he had that night and counts on his fingers until he is holding up eight.

“At least. I... don’t remember.”

I chuckle. “You drunk asshole.”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

I hold my cup tightly in both hands and finish the glass. Julian kisses me on the forehead after I set it down. His arms wrap around my waist.

“Let’s get you to bed, darling. I’ll get you more water if you need it.” He lifts me off the counter and hoists me over his shoulder. He takes the steps one at a time and pauses on each. His grip on my legs is tight, and I could see his knuckles were white on the railing. I know he’s doing his best to be careful, but this is clearly a bad idea. As tempted as I am to struggle or bite him, I’m not much in the mood to be dropped on my face down the stairs.

Once we get to the bedroom, he flops me on the cushions as gently as possible, takes off his remaining boot, and starts properly undoing the buttons and clasps of his jacket. I shimmy out of my dress without getting out of bed and kick it away.  My fingers moved between my thighs, and I stroked my clit with exaggerated, full-arm motions.

“Mmfph. Doctor Devorak, take it all off!” I shout at Julian, breaking his concentration. He looks up from his buttons with a raised eyebrow. I moan dramatically, but not insincerely, as I watch him rock his hips to an unheard rhythm while he undoes the rest of his jacket. He yanks it off and throws it across the room with a flourish before striking a pose.

“Pants! Pants! Pants!”

Julian obediently uncoils the sash around his waist and lets it drop to the floor. His thumbs swipe the inside of his waistband as he slowly slides his pants down his thighs. When he reaches his knees, he presses his hands on them, locks his elbows, and tries to wink despite still wearing his eyepatch. I moan wantonly and touch my clit in quicker circles.

“Come here,” I say. Julian kicks off his pants and takes off his shirt without much fanfare. I lie on my side, inviting him to be the big spoon. He takes the hint and lies naked behind me. His cock is hard and pressing against my ass while his hand slides over my hip and between my thighs. I use my unoccupied hand to push his away and roll my hips back against him. He tries to touch me again, and again, I deny him access.

“No,” I say. “Fuck me.”

He sighs in annoyance. “I’m too drunk for that. You ’re _definitely_ too drunk for that.  Tomorrow, dear.”

“Nonsense!” I flip over quickly, push him onto his back with my knee and sit on his hips. My body pushes his cock down between us. I rake his chest with my nails. Julian exhales shakily but makes no move to stop me. I reach between us and start stroking his cock. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Please, don’t,” Julian groans contentedly. “Please don’t stop.” I stroke faster and flick my wrist at the top of his head. He moans, curses, and arches his back into me. Precome pearls at the tip of his cock; I slide my finger back and forth over the opening. He whines underneath me, and I let go. He grabs my back and pulls me against him for a kiss. His mouth tastes like the multitude of drinks he had at the Rowdy Raven, but I don’t mind. His lips are clumsy and hungry against me; mine are probably less graceful than that.

I prop myself up to kneel upright above his hips. He watches as if his better judgment were telling him to back out as loudly as mine is. I ignore my common sense, take his cock in my hand, and position it against my opening. Julian bites his lip and thrusts up reflexively. No longer able to deny either of us, I let myself sink down onto him. He tangles himself up in the sheets immediately and moans. I lift my hips and sink down onto him again. The room spins and I have to put my palms down on the bed to keep upright. My stomach roils.

“Ugh, you’re right. I’m too drunk for this,” I say as I pull off and flop next to him. “You’re on top now.”

He grumbles but is too aroused to let this minor inconvenience end our night early. He rolls over, presses his elbows on either side of my head and rests his knees between mine. His chest is inches from my face, so I lean up and press a quick kiss into him. Julian arches his back awkwardly to bring his face to mine and kisses my nose. My hands rub up and down his sides and play with the soft, red hair on his body. The skin that surrounds me smells strongly and unmistakably like Julian. He shifts his weight to one side and uses his free hand to return my exploratory touches. His fingertips roam over my ribs and across my breasts, circling my nipples as he moves across them.

“Mmm, Julian. I want you inside.”

Julian needs no further prompting to adjust himself and thrust inside. We moan together as his cock fills me completely, pressing in until the hilt. I wrap my arms around him and pull him down into my embrace. His weight on me makes it difficult to breathe, but I welcome the pressure. It feels protective. Loving. Safe. I tell him as much as he thrust into me again, and he cranes his neck down to kiss the top of my head. The height difference always makes this position uncomfortable, let alone Julian’s natural inclination to be on the bottom.

I slide my hand between us and find my clit again. My muscles tense in response, and Julian groans as I tighten around his cock. His tempo picks up considerably, moving in and out of me at a moderate pace. My fingers dig into the flesh of his back. I can feel his chest vibrate against me with his moans. His breath hitches and he holds it in his chest.

“You feel - ah, _ah_ \- you feel so good,” Julian says.

“Y-you do, too.”

His hands slide under my back, squeezing me against him. I don’t care that his full weight was nearly crushing me. His pace increases again but is still far from anything classifiable as quick. I squeeze him harder with my free hand while the one between my thighs moves faster to keep his pace.

“I feel - _oh god, Julian_ , I feel so close, so connected to you, _fuck,_ ” I groan.

Julian breathes deeply like he’s focusing on the words.

“Me too… _ah, ah fuck._ ” He presses all the way inside then pauses for a beat before fully withdrawing. I stop and tilt my head to look up at him.

“What’s wrong?”

If he weren’t already completely flushed from the alcohol and his arousal, the shy look of embarrassment would have certainly turned him a deep red.

“Keep going. I just, ah, need a second to collect myself.”

I do as I’m told and continue playing with my clit. Under normal circumstances, I would have asked Julian to take over, but I’m not sure I trust his fine motor skills in this state. Julian shimmies down so our faces are aligned and to kiss me deeply, stroking my hair and cheek. My near-constant moaning into his mouth makes it impossible for it to be a good and proper kiss, but he tries nevertheless. My body shudders and relaxes, so Julian pulls away, watching me lustfully. I shake again, and my hips mindlessly roll against his abdomen. Everything seems right, but I can’t muster the mental energy to push myself over the edge. Julian kisses near my ear.

“Please don’t hold back. I want to watch you,” he says.

I close my eyes and concentrate on the feeling of his body on mine, the way my fingers feel against my clit, how his cock felt inside me, all to no avail. I whine out of frustration. Julian looks at me full of concern and strokes my cheek.

“What’s wrong?”

“I, I - _agh... mmm…”_

“Good, go ahead. Let go.”

“I - _ugh-_ I can’t. Julian. Julian, J-Ju-” I’m too caught up in my moans to speak for a moment, but Julian waits patiently for me to finish one way or another.

“I need you inside me, Julian. Fuck me.”

Julian glances sideways at the wall.

“I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hold off, darling.”

“ _Ah,-_ Don’t care, just fuck me. I need you, I need you, I need-”

I gasp as Julian thrusts himself inside me again. He scrunches his face up and curses quietly.  The restraint he’s practising is evident on his face as he makes love to me slowly, gently. It isn’t enough. I need to feel him, all of him, inside of me and completely overwhelmed.

“ _More_ ,” I moan into his chest. He sucks air through his teeth and picks up the pace. “Like that, yes! Yes - _ah, fuck_.” His body tenses against me.

“I’m, I’m not-” whatever Julian is trying to say is snatched away by more moaning. “I’m close.” I wrap my legs tightly around his hips, refusing to let him pull out.

“Then come. Come inside me, Julian. Fill me with it. I want to wake up tomorrow with part of you still inside me. Come, Julian.”

And so he does. He shakes his head and shoves his face into a pillow to muffle his grunts while the rest of his body tenses and trembles. His cock pulses rhythmically as he drains himself inside of me. I finally manage to surpass whatever mental block I had and feel myself getting close too. Julian stays inside me when his orgasm passes and turns his attention to fondling my breasts. His fingers caress my nipples softly, carefully, and grope whatever he could get his hand on.

Not long after, my pleasure begins to peak and quietly overtakes me. My hips rock against him with each wave, and my free hand scratches its nails down his back. When my body stops shaking, Julian finally pulls out. He looks down and me tenderly. He’s smiling weakly and is clearly exhausted. I touch his cheeks; they’re prickly and need a shave.

Moments pass, and eventually, Julian rolls onto his back and pulls me into him. I rest my head in the middle of his chest and play with his hair. He kisses the top of my head and strokes my face. Neither of us is awake enough to speak, so we just curl up and enjoy the moment before drifting off to sleep.


	2. Jars

The next morning, I wake up to an empty bed. Judging by the sun shining through the windows, it’s well into the day. My head is pounding, and I still feel sick to my stomach. Next to me on the side table is a half-full glass of stratified liquid. It takes me a minute to figure out what, exactly, it is, but I eventually manage to rack my brain enough to remember that it’s the hangover cure I had made before we left last night. Julian must have brought it upstairs this morning. I pick it up and drink greedily, then settle back under the covers while I wait for it to kick in. It’s far too hot to be bundled up in blankets the way I am, but Julian’s scent still lingers on the sheets, so I don’t mind.

The stairs creak. My head pounds in protest, but I caution a peek. Julian is carrying a plate of scrambled eggs and fried potatoes in one hand and a glass of water in the other. I sit up on my elbows.

“Oh, good. You’re up. I was worried I’d have to wake you; it’s almost noon. Here, I brought food. I know it’s all really greasy, but that should help with the hangover.”

I nod weakly and sit up to accept the warm plate Julian is handing me. He sets the glass down on the nightstand and perches on the bed next to me. My headache is gradually ebbing. I can feel the brew starting to kick in, but I’m grateful for the food nevertheless. It had been almost a full day since I had eaten a proper meal - drinks and late night snacking excluded - and I eat the breakfast Julian made voraciously. His culinary abilities have nothing on Asra’s, but his simple breakfast tastes like the best thing in the world on an empty stomach. He didn’t exaggerate about how greasy everything is though. I ask him if there is any oil left in Vesuvia after his masterpiece. He laughs, licks his thumb, and wipes something off of my face. 

I’m too absorbed in my fatigue to care about my appearance, but my hair is a mat of tangles that I can only hope aren’t full of bread crumbs - or anything worse. Frankly, I’m just proud that I managed to keep everything down last night. Salty bitters are damn near strong enough to blind someone not prepared to handle them. Had Julian known I was so busy in the shop last night that I had skipped dinner, he would have never let me have them.

“Are you alright? Do you need anything else?” He asks.

“What good bedside manner you have, Doctor Devorak. But no, I’m fine. Feeling better already.” 

“I’m glad.” He takes the empty plate from me and exchanges it for the glass of water on the table. I drain it quickly, and Julian takes care of the cup too. I scoot over to the middle of the bed to make room for him to snuggle. He joins me underneath the covers, takes me in both arms, and kisses me anywhere he can reach - my shoulders, my chest, my neck, my face, my hands. My headache finally eases into a negligible thrum, but I’m still exhausted. I feel safe and warm wrapped up in bed with Julian and want nothing more than to drift back to sleep with him. My limbs are heavy. Maybe my muscles are just fatigued from running after Malak last night. I turn to my side facing away from him. He drapes an arm around me and I feel his chest hair against my back. Our bodies are two intertwined crescent moons in the middle of the bed.

Julian is warm to the touch, and his skin is slightly clammy from the heat that’s trapped in the attic bedroom. I struggle to keep my eyes open while he whispers sweet nothings to me. I know I ought not to sleep the whole day away, but there’s really no other way to escape the oppressive summer heat. I lean into the overwhelming pull of sleep, but before succumb to it, I force myself to remember everything that happened just to make sure I can. Three salty bitters, running into Julian’s old pirate friend at the Rowdy Raven, chasing Malak back home, throwing a glass on the floor, being carried upstairs. The intoxicating -and intoxicated- way Julian smelled. The weight of his body on mine. How intimate it felt to be surrounded by him, to be filled with him.  

I bolt upright. Julian sits up groggily with worry written all over his face.

“Darling, what’s wrong? What happened?” He asks, taking my hands in both of his.

“Last night. You didn’t, ah, pull out, did you? When you...?” Julian’s face turns a bright red, and he shifts his gaze to the wall behind me.  
“... I didn’t, no. Per your request.”

“Fuck!” I toss the blankets, hop out of bed, and shrug on a robe. I race down the stairs with Julian hot on my heels. A dozen or so papers that I had shoved in the cabinets while “cleaning” scatter when I throw open the squeaky cabinet doors and rummage through the little bottles of ingredients. The brew I need to make is simple enough, but it’s requested frequently, and I’m certain I don’t have all of the things I need for it. If it would have required more effort than a trip downstairs, it almost wouldn’t have been worth it to even check. Silphium, the most important herb in the brew, is only grown in one specific region which happens to be out of season. 

I already know no one else in town has it on hand either. The last batch I made was at least a fortnight ago for a young woman who had dragged her already-large brood to a dozen apothecaries and half as many other magicians before she wound up at my shop. I’m sure I hadn’t been able to replace any of the components since then. I feel around for where the bottle of Silphium ought to have been and pull out an empty container. 

“What’s wrong? Can I help?” Julian asks. Not having realized how close he is standing behind me, I jump at his voice and almost drop the glass. I sigh and my shoulders slump.

“I’m out of the stuff that I need to make the brew to undo that...  _ thing _ that happened last night.”

“Maybe one of the other shops in town will have it? Perhaps Mazelinka would have what you need?”

“Unlikely.” I explain the plant’s growing season and the resulting shortage to him. “And that’s not exactly a conversation I’d like to have with Mazelinka even on the off-chance she has it.”   
“Can you wait until there’s a fresh shipment of it to take it?”

I stare at him blankly for a moment. 

“...  You can’t prevent pregnancy if you’re already pregnant. It has to be taken pretty soon after.”

“Right. That makes sense.”

I push my fingers through my hair and try to focus on taking deep, relaxed breaths.

“Well, the only thing to do now is to wait and hope nothing comes of it, I suppose… and if something does, then that’s easy enough to take care of, too.” The reassurances are almost entirely for my own benefit. I make an attempt to cover my anxiety in hopes that seeing me calm would keep him calm, but when I look up at him, I notice Julian’s face is twisted in a weird, uncomfortable smile. He seems conflicted. His mouth opens and closes a few times without saying anything. My stomach drops thinking of all of the horrible confessions he could be planning to make.  

“I, hmm… I suppose I’m not really sure how to ask this.” He clears his throat and glances around the room a moment before returning my gaze. “Do we really have to do anything about it?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath. I can’t believe I have to spell this out. I chalk it up to nerves clouding his thinking and try to pick my next words as delicately as possible despite my annoyance. 

“Unless you want a little Scorpio baby in nine months, then yeah, we really have to do something about it.”

Julian looks flustered and starts spouting out a convoluted half-apology, half-explanation. It’s overwhelming. Then it dawns on me. I feel an unfamiliar knot in my chest. Nothing seems particularly real at that moment, and part of me hopes that the whole situation is just a very realistic dream.

“Do you  _ want _ a little Scorpio baby in nine months?” I ask, barely choking out the words.

Julian is silent again. He breathes deeply and watches me intently as if we were playing poker and he’s looking for my tell. I try my best not to give it to him, but I can’t hide the concern clearly etched into my face. It’s his turn to choose his words carefully.

“When this all started-” Julian takes another big breath- “Do you remember the first evening we spent at Portia’s cottage?”

“Of course.”

“Her life was so peaceful. She was so content with everything. I was happy for her - and I still am... but part of me was envious of the life she had made for herself. Ever since that evening, it’s all I’ve ever wanted - to have a happy, peaceful life - with you. As a family.”

Whatever nervousness he had earlier has left him completely. He looks at me stone-faced while he waits for my response like he had just made some grand confession and is waiting for his judgement. Actually, he didn’t look half as serious claiming the murder of the Count before his execution as he does now. The expectancy in his eyes makes him look vulnerable. Fragile, almost. 

“But a baby? You want a baby now?”

He kisses my hand as I ask it.

“Only if it’s what you want too,” he says into my palm.

I pause for a moment to consider my options, but Julian didn’t seem to be waiting for a response. His lips trail over my inner arm, across my shoulders, between my breasts and down my midline until he can no longer bend over and is forced to kneel on the floor in front of me. Julian’s hands rest on my waist. Although he doesn’t tug at me, I feel the need to meet him on the floor. I sit on his lap in much the same way I had the night before. I kiss him deeply, passionately. Regardless of my answer to the question that is standing like an elephant in the room, I need him to know I love him all the same. I need to  _ show _ him I love him all the same.

My hands rub flatly up his chest and throat before resting on either cheek. We look at each other a moment, examining each other’s faces. I let my robe open, revealing myself to him fully before kissing him roughly. His body responds quickly, and he holds me by the small of my back, pressing me close to him. I get up and crouch next to him for a second while he shimmies out of his pants just enough to expose himself. I return to my place on his lap, making sure to sink down on his cock in the process. 

Julian shudders and groans as if he hadn’t expected this. His head jerks back and hits the cabinets behind him with a soft thunk. We hold each other tightly, lovingly, and I push up on my thighs to start a quick, uneven tempo. Julian is usually obedient in bed, but the desperate way he’s pressing into me underscores a sense of vulnerability I haven’t seen from him in a long time. I kiss his throat and give him a gentle bite on his collarbone. As soon as my teeth touch his skin, his hips lurch up to meet mine. I alternate between kisses and bites as I work my way up his neck, slowly making my way to his ears. Julian whimpers breathily into my shoulder; his voice is high-pitched and soft. 

I nibble on the lobe as if it were something delicate and pull it down with my teeth. I bite his ear, and the hands on my back tighten their grip, but he is careful not to dig his nails into my skin. Part of me wants to make up for last night and tie him down, but now’s not the time - neither of us is in the right headspace for it.

“I love you,” I whisper into his ear. 

“I love you too.” 

Riding him like this one of the few positions where we’re evenly level with one another, so I can easily kiss him and watch the pleasure dance across his face. Like every other situation he’s ever been in, he’s always exceptionally expressive when we make love. He pinches his eyes closed when I sink down on him again. Between groans, Julian starts speaking again.   
“I love you. I want you, all of you, however selfish it may be. I want to come inside you again. I want to keep you safe. I want to raise a family with you. _I love you. I love you. I love_ -”

I cut him off with a kiss. His rambling dissolves to moans in my mouth. I pull away first, pressing my head against the cabinet behind him. My thighs begin to ache from the exertion of lifting and dropping my whole body while making love to him, but I do my best to ignore it and continue. I grip the counter above us. 

Julian shudders and whimpers again on the next downstroke. His messy red hair, his flushed face and pink tipped ears make him look  _ beautiful _ . I want him to give myself to him fully. I want to be as connected to him as possible. I want to make him feel loved too.

The additional support helps me pick up speed slightly despite my muscle fatigue, but I’m quickly forced to return to a pace that’s even slower than before. Julian doesn’t seem to mind, though I am thoroughly frustrated. He holds me a little closer to his chest, and his hips roll rhythmically against mine despite having no leverage for actual thrusting. In this position, I know whatever pleasure he receives is completely at my discretion. Typically, I’d tease him to the edge and refuse him until he was a begging, desperate mess, but the way he’s looking at me is already so pleading, so fragile, that I can’t bear to deny him anything.

Julian presses his mouth against my shoulder and moans my name over and over until it devolves into fragments, then phonemes, then random, elongated vowels. He looks up at me, forcing his eyes to stay open, and his arms drop from my waist, lying limp on the floor.

“I’m- I’m getting close,” he says shakily. He’s letting me decide if he would come inside - an implied answer to his question.

Before I can make a decision, the shop’s door chime rings. I freeze and shove my hand against Julian’s mouth. He looks at me wide-eyed and makes no attempt to speak. Apparently, neither of us had remembered to lock the door last night. The person at the door calls my name. Silence.

“Helllooooo? Is anybody home? Ilya, are you here?” They ask.

Julian and I both recognize Portia’s voice immediately. For a split second, I’m just relieved it isn’t a customer. All things considered, Portia walking in isn’t the worst thing in the world. After the past two masquerades, my friendship with the Countess is well-known around town, and while it’s been great for business, it’s opened me up as a subject for gossip in more ways than I would like. The (mostly) untrue necromancy rumours surrounding my relationship with Julian are bad enough without some townsperson claiming that the awkward sex scene they walked in on was actually some hedonistic reanimation ritual. That did, however, still leave Portia at the door, me naked behind the counter, and her half-dressed brother inside me.

When I’m completely sure he will be quiet, I take my hand away from Julian’s mouth. We stare at each other intensely as if we’re trying to communicate with that look alone. There’s no way for either of us to quickly sneak off and hide somewhere without Portia seeing. It brings me back to when Julian and I were in the library and hiding from the Countess behind the bookshelf. I tie the bathrobe and slowly lift myself off of Julian. I highly doubt Asra will appear and save us this time. 

She can probably see my hands, I realize too late. I have to stand up. I try to look as nonchalant as possible when I show myself, but her curious expression tells me I failed miserably.

“Are you feeling okay? You look terrible,” Portia says by way of greeting. Recognizing that what she just said would normally be considered rather rude, she turns a bright shade of pink and starts apologizing. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. You look lovely, as usual, just a little sick, and I-” 

“It’s fine, Portia. I’m hungover but otherwise okay. If you’re looking for Julian, you just missed him. I’d check the clinic; I think he said he was heading down that way.”

Julian gently lifts my ankle and slides under it. 

Portia flashes me the same mischievous grin her brother does when he’s up to something. “Didn’t you two go out last night? Ilya never sees patients when he’s hungover, and knowing my brother, he definitely is.”

Not even a minute in, and she’s already caught me. I have no idea how to respond and gape at her a moment. Portia approaches the counter, puts her elbows on the surface, and rests her head in her hands.

“So, what did you two get up to last night? Something we can’t tell the Countess about?” Portia suggests a few highly improbable and illegal things that Julian might have done- kidnapping children to induct them into some magical secret society, planning a dungeon break for a coven of pirates, setting another Count on fire somewhere. There’s a loud tear the second she pauses as Julian rips one of the papers that had fallen out of the cabinet earlier. 

“Or  _ maybe _ you rescued some exotic animal!” Portia presses her palms into the counter, pushes herself up, and tiptoes to peer over it. She locks eyes with Julian. The awkward tension is palpable. “Oh!... OH!”

I step back and watch as them both turn a bright red. I feel my cheeks flush as well, and we all just stand there staring at each other and stewing in our own mortification. Between my obviously dishonest denial, hastily tied robe, and the uncomfortable way Julian is sitting his arms around his knees and his thighs pinned to his chest, it’s incredibly obvious what she had just walked in on. Nadia was right; they do look really similar when they’re flustered. My panic clears just enough for a half dozen spells that would have let us avoid this whole incident come to mind. Julian recovers first.

“I wouldn’t really call Nevivon exotic, would you?” He asks.

Portia breaks their staring contest and shouts something in their native tongue. Julian looks uncomfortable again - she must be giving him a thorough chastising. She pauses, and he looks up at her apologetically before speaking again. 

“Now, what is it that you came to speak to me about?”

Portia takes a few deep breaths, and her embarrassment dissolves into something more like annoyance. “...The Countess wanted to have lobster tonight. I mentioned it was your favourite, so she wanted to ask you two to join us.” Her face twists a little. “I also haven’t heard from you in a while, and I was getting worried. I know things have been better, but…”

“Who are we to reject an invitation from the Countess? Of course, we’ll attend.” He smiles warmly at her. “Please try not to worry, Pasha. I’m quite alright.”

Her mood shifts again. She looks satisfied with his response. “Clearly,” she scoffs. “I have more errands to run. Nadia said she’d send a carriage to arrive in the late afternoon, so that should leave you two enough time to finish whatever you were up to...” She winks at me. Julian looks like he wants to die again.

Portia sees herself to the door. Julian finally stands so we can say our goodbyes. When she opens the shop door, we can see a tall, golden horse waiting for her outside. Even from behind the counter, I can see that its nearly-white mane is intricately braided with something colourful. Portia closes the door quietly behind herself, and we watch out the window as she effortlessly mounts it and rides off. Julian and I exchange surprised looks. 

“Must be a gift from Nadia,” Julian says.

“I didn’t know she could ride.”

“I didn’t either. We’ll have to ask her about that over dinner. But first-” Julian leans down and kisses me firmly on the lips- “Where were we?” I return the kiss just a moment before pulling away.  He’s hard again - if that ever went away to begin with - and breathing heavily. I pull his hand to my lips and kiss his fingertips with one hand and trace my fingers down his body until I am palming the front of his pants with the other. He sighs and watches me with anticipation. I gently lick the fingertips I’m pressing against my mouth. Julian’s face relaxes, and he lazily bites his bottom lip. Everything about him is prickling with anticipation. I want to tease him and deny him until he is a squirming, mewling mess beneath me, but after all of the drama this morning, I can’t muster the energy to do it. I wrap my arms around him and lean my forehead into his chest. He pauses for a moment then reciprocates.

“It’s been a long day,” I say into his chest.

“It has,” Julian says softly. “And you were asleep for half of it.” His hands stroke my hair, and he seems to have picked up on my stress. Julian makes no attempt to pull away or move at all, so we stand behind the counter doing nothing but hugging. He smells like strong coffee and smoke from the stove. I try to clear my mind and relax in his arms, but the consequences of last night’s tryst loom heavy over me. I keep replaying the conversation we had earlier in my head- Julian’s nervous question and flustered apology and hopeful smile. What I wouldn’t give to read his thoughts right now. I finally muster the resolve to speak.

 

“We have a lot of cleaning up to do before the carriage gets here.”

  
  
  
  



	3. Basin

“Actually, I took care of the mess in the kitchen this morning. I still wouldn’t walk through it barefoot though,” Julian says. My hair looks like something Malak would call home, but that doesn’t stop Julian from trying to push his hands through it anyway. 

“You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.” I tiptoe to give him a quick kiss on the cheek as a sign of gratitude. His fingers get caught in my hair. For a second, he struggles to pull them out. That’s become something of a theme as of late, I suppose.

“I tried to use magic, but I’m not sure I got everything. I also may have, ah, scorched the floor a little.”  Julian flashes me a sheepish smile. He knows I’m not upset. The shop endured too much abuse from when I relearned magic for me to chastise him over it. Besides, it’s barely been a little over a year since the first time he tried magic with me in the Tower’s realm, and he’s only been practising in earnest for a few months. I intertwine our fingers.

“I can double-check,” I say. I make sure to give his hand an encouraging squeeze as I lead him into the kitchen. He follows willingly. 

“Let’s see how I did then, shall we?”

I crouch down and place my palms on the floor and concentrate on cleaning up the glass. My magic somehow tightens the knots in my already severely tangled hair. Several tiny shards of glass pop out from the cracks in the floorboard and find their way into the trash. Julian’s work isn’t perfect, but still a great deal better than a quick sweep would have been. 

“You only missed a few pieces - that’s wonderful!” I say. 

Julian is beaming. Seeing his excitement makes me feel proud, almost overwhelmingly so. All of the work I put into teaching him and he put into learning has paid off. He is getting objectively better with magic. The spell he used wasn’t particularly difficult, but he could do it by himself. He could do  _ magic _ by himself. We worked so hard to get him from the weak, spluttering flame we first conjured together in the Tower’s realm to here. I wonder if this is how Asra felt when he was reteaching me the basics. 

“You really think so?”

“Yes! I’m so proud! You did it!” 

Julian picks me up into a hug and spins us around. We’re both laughing and smiling and  _ proud _ when he sets me down. The burn in the floor is small but conspicuous; regardless, I decide to keep it, for now, as a memento of this moment, this feeling. 

Julian’s face is too far away for me to kiss, so I nuzzle my cheek against the exposed patch of chest hair on his midline. I breathe deeply and try to get as much of his scent as possible. He smells exactly like Julian usually smells. I love it, but it’s perhaps a bit too much for Nadia and Portia’s taste.

“Bath?” I ask as I press a kiss into his torso. Julian steps back and blushes. He puts his arms tightly down at his sides.

“Sorry, I- yes. Bath.”

I step forward. Julian steps back again. I step forward and grab his shoulder before he can move away. He looks at me uncomfortably, clearly upset by my earlier implication. I ignore it and take his left hand with my right and guide his right hand to my waist. Julian catches on and relaxes a bit, then steps back again. I step forward. He steps to the side. I follow. 

Julian leads me in a clumsy approximation of a box step, but our bodies are too close together for it to be a proper waltz. We do a few circuits in silence before I hear a low thrum in Julian’s chest. He’s humming a sea shanty that I’ve heard him sing at least a half dozen times within the past 24 hours in various states of drunkenness, but the tune sounds much less jaunty this time; it could almost be mistaken for a lullaby with the soft way he’s humming it now. He holds the last few notes of the tune and presses a kiss on the top of my head. I feel the most relaxed I have since this morning, but I can’t shake the tension burrowed in my chest. I have a thousand thoughts and worries flying through my mind, and I don’t know how to articulate any of it.

“Let’s get ready for Nadia, darling,” Julian says. I agree, and we head to the washroom. The basin is small but sufficient for a strip wash. Julian undresses and stands naked while he waits for me to fill the basin. He is so angular and perfect that I could almost forget that I am staring at a real man and not a statue. Every facial feature is sharp and symmetrical. His body is strong and virile and tall. It makes it hard to imagine him as the gangly teenager Portia always describes. My eyes linger on the thick patch of red curls trailing down from his belly button to his flaccid cock, and I try to recall the last time I had seen Julian naked and so completely unaroused.

However, when Julian finally notices where I’m staring, he doesn’t stay that way for long. He smiles nervously, and a blush covers his body - his cheeks, his ears, his chest, his stomach all turn a bright shade of pink. He shifts his weight, and I can see the tension in his thighs; he’s flexing the muscles to calm himself down.

By this time, the basin is full, so I unwrap my robe, throw it across the room, and dunk my rat’s nest hair in the water. I ring it out and try to work soap through the tangles. Brushing it with my fingers proves futile. When I finish rinsing my hair, I notice that Julian’s attempt to calm himself down has been a complete failure. He’s watching me, fully erect and completely unbathed. 

“Aren’t you going to scrub down?” I ask. My gaze shifts between his face and his cock. Both are looking rather pink. 

“Uh… yes. Right.” Julian grabs a washcloth, soaks it, and mindlessly scrubs his shoulder. I turn my focus back to bathing myself. I’m meticulous with my scrubbing, careful not to miss anywhere. Although we go to the palace often enough, I still can’t help but feel self-conscious surrounded by the opulence and the scrutinizing eyes of her servants. When I’m satisfied that I am perfectly clean, I look back up and Julian who is still scrubbing the same place on his shoulders. I stand up as gracefully as I can. One hand meets his on his shoulder; the other holds him by the hip. 

“Do you require assistance, Doctor Devorak?” I ask. A familiar heat pulses through my body, but we don’t have time to properly address it. His eyes are heavy, and it occurs to me that if I woke up as late as I did feeling as bad as I did after 3 drinks, Julian must have felt horrible when he woke up this morning. 

“If you’d be so kind, darling.”

I slip the washcloth out from underneath his hand and start making circles on his chest which are probably doing very little by way of actual cleaning. I tiptoe to lean in as close to his face as possible, and my hand on his hip travels to his cock. My grip is light, and I barely pull his foreskin over the head and back down. Julian inhales sharply then groans. My little circles become ovals and slowly loop down until I’m scrubbing the entire front of his torso. I decide this is probably sufficient and pass the washcloth to the hand that is still lightly stroking his cock. Julian moves his hands, which were hanging limply at his sides up until now, behind his back and wrings them. He’s whimpering and breathing heavily as I carefully wrap the cloth around his cock. I slowly, gently, glide the cloth down making sure to fully retract his foreskin so I can dab underneath. Julian looks confused at best, and definitely uncomfortable. 

“Did you not say you wanted assistance?” I ask, feigning ignorance of how underwhelming what I’m doing is. 

“This is, ah, not quite what I had in mind.” Julian puts a hand on my waist and quickly retracts it. I appreciate that he’s being cautious after the tension following Portia’s departure. 

“Oh?” I loosely grip his cock in my bare hand and gently stroke it up and down. “More like this then?”

He bites his lip and nods, groaning quietly under his breath. 

“Hmm. We’re running a little short on time, I think. Maybe we can discuss it after you get dressed. I trust you can finish cleaning up on your own?” I press the washcloth into his hand. He nods, and I tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. I use my magic to dry off but still wrap myself in a towel when I leave the bathroom. 

Figuring out what to wear is easily the hardest part of visiting Nadia, though I know it doesn’t really matter. If there are any visiting dignitaries worth impressing at dinner (or any of her sisters), she’ll have our pre-planned outfits waiting for us when we arrive. If it’s just Portia and Nadia, they’ve already seen me dirty and underdressed plenty of times. Trips to the palace are less stressful than they used to be at least. 

In the past, we made every effort to conceal Julian’s identity. We would travel with different glamors and outfits each time, hoping that none of the staff would ask too many questions about it. This arrangement bothered Portia immensely, so with Nadia’s permission, we stopped the practice. Anyone who had been around for the first masquerade obviously recognized him, but what were they going to say about it? If they knew who he was, it was because they saw him at his trial or watched him hang in the town square. 

The image of Julian's limp body after the execution gives me a knotted feeling in my chest. I decide to wear a thin blue off-the-shoulder gown that pins along the bustline. The dress falls to my ankles but has a tendency to whip up to my waist when it’s too breezy out, but that hopefully won’t be an issue since we’ll be in a carriage. It’s not the elegant kind of thing Nadia likes to see at her dinner table, but it’s also not something I’d have to worry about being admonished for wearing. 

I find my hairbrush, throw the garment on the bed, and then sit beside the dress. I’ve been dreading having to do this since I woke up. I grab a handful of my hair and aggressively brush the ends, trying to work out the horrid mess of tangles. The grip on my hair keeps the tugging from being too painful.

Julian steps into the room freshly shaved, wrapped in a towel, and still damp. I offer to dry him off the rest of the way, and he accepts. I set my brush down, meet him by the closet, and rub my hands through his hair. His curls turn into fluffy fly-aways thanks to the humidity which makes him look almost like a red flowering onion. Once he’s good to go, I settle back onto the edge of the bed and continue working while Julian mulls over his wardrobe options. Portia had suggested, in more delicate terms, that dressing less like a horny fugitive might diminish the interest of the palace staff, so he’s been making an effort to wear shirts that he can actually button when we visit. So far, he owns two, and both were presents from the palace. Julian makes his decision, tosses his outfit on top of mine, crawls on the bed and straddles my hips from behind.

“You’re going to hurt yourself doing that, darling. Please, allow me,” Julian says and he puts his hand over mine on top of the brush handle. I let go and allow him to take it. Julian sections out a small lock of my hair, puts the ends in his palm, and gently brushes out the knots at the end, working his way slowly up the shaft to the roots. When he’s satisfied with his work, he repeats the process with another piece and starts humming to himself.

Between the mess we’re currently dealing with as far as my hair goes and Julian’s downright awful bedhead, I can’t recall a single time we both had a good hair day without some extreme effort. I’d pity our child for whatever hair-related disaster they would inevitably inherit from one or both of us. Hair brushing would definitely have to be delegated to Julian; I simply lack the patience for doing it properly. 

As hard as I try, I can’t stop myself from imagining what it would be like to watch him brush our child’s long, frizzy hair like he is mine - though obviously with more clothes on - and humming sweet songs to them. I wonder if they would sit patiently or if they would fuss at having to wait while their hair was being done. I wonder if they would beg Asra to braid their hair like he used to do Nadia’s and if Asra would tell them stories of his most recent travels while he deftly he worked. It feels odd to think about.  

Julian plants a kiss into the back of my head to signal that he’s finished. I want to ask him what he thinks our child’s hair would be like - if we ever have a baby, that is -, but I keep my thoughts to myself. Instead, I turn around and kiss him gently as a sign of gratitude. Julian’s tongue dashes across my bottom lip by way of asking permission, which I quickly part my lips to grant. His tongue slowly slips beneath mine then retreats back to his own mouth. Without breaking the kiss, I swing my legs over his thigh so I am laying across his lap, intertwine my fingers behind his head, and pull his face down to meet mine. The towel has gotten loose with all of the commotions, and it serves more as a blanket draped over me than anything.  Julian cradles me close to him and slides one hand under the top of it to cup my breast. His other hand slides under the bottom.

His fingers gently swirl up my leg and hip and pauses.

“May I?” Julian asks, pulling away from our kiss. I nod and press his face back down to mine. His hand continues across my hips and over my mons. This time last year, I would have been embarrassed about his hand grazing over my fuzzy patch of pubic hair, but we’ve grown much more comfortable since then.  

The first time things got hot and heavy before I had a chance to shave or wax, I was awkward and uncomfortable and refused to undress fully. Julian was worried at the sudden shift from my usually confident, domineering approach and eventually coaxed me into telling him what was bothering me. When I finally confided that I was worried he’d be grossed out by body hair, he laughed his endearingly hideous laugh.

“Darling, look at me,” Julian said, gesturing dramatically at his already naked body. “Do you really think I’m going to be bothered by a little body hair? Besides, I’m a  _ physician _ . If you knew the number of gross things I see on a daily basis, you’d know that’s nothing to be worried about. Now, come here.” 

He gestured for me to sit on his face. It really did seem funny to be worried about  _ Julian _ being deterred by something so insignificant. Nowadays, I’m fairly certain it would take nothing short of immediate danger to actually get Julian to refuse a sexual encounter. Giggling, I obliged, and he made a point of kissing my thighs and the stubble on my mound before turning his full attention to my clit for the next half hour.

I ask him if he remembers this. He does, and we both chuckle at the memory. While I’m reminiscing, Julian takes the opportunity to start stroking my clit. My laughter sharpens into a quick yelp as I’m surprised by the sudden wave of pleasure. Julian shudders as a shock of arousal goes through him. His fingers are slow and careful as he touches me, and I can tell he's trying to transpose the angles and movements that are guaranteed to bring me to orgasm to the atypical way he's holding me. 

I'm not exactly the right kind of wet after scrubbing down, so Julian takes his middle and ring finger into his mouth to slicken them before starting again in earnest. His touch feels much better after the fact, and I turn into him to grip his shoulder. He kisses the top of my head and slides his fingers down and inside of me. They curl and stroke the sensitive spots in the front. It's not often that our sex life is so consistently vanilla. It's a welcome change of pace. 

“J-Julian… Julian,” I whine into his chest as I roll my hips into his hand. He makes a low moan in response. With shaking hands, I start to pull off the towel around his waist. Julian shifts his weight to let me remove it enough for me to grab his cock. He makes a soft, exaggerated sigh when I grab him and pump up and down the shaft. I start off rushed and unaccommodating. He's been denied twice already, and I know I'll soon be too overwhelmed to give him proper attention. 

Julian seems to catch on to my intention, and he slides his fingers back up to my clit which he caresses with equal vigour. I feel vulnerable but safe curled up and moaning in his lap. I nuzzle my face against his chest and feel it vibrate with his moans. 

Julian knows exactly what to do to make me shake as the shock of pleasure courses through my body. He hisses as my muscles contract and I grip his cock too hard. Defeated, I move my hand to his hip and grip it indelicately as I'm consumed by what his fingers are doing to me. 

Between my what happened last night and going to the palace, it takes a lot longer than usual for me to get in the right headspace to build up for an orgasm. My mind keeps frittering between different anxieties and made up scenarios and conversations, and I struggle to pay attention the pleasure. I work on grounding myself by trying to focus on what's around me. Julian smells like the cedarwood soap Asra brought back for him the last time he was in town. His chest hair tickles against my bare skin. His hand is between my thighs and the things he is doing to me feel  _ amazing. _

He expertly keeps on-target as I squirm in his lap, stretching out fully then contracting into a tight ball, bucking into his hand and pulling away abruptly.  

“You're close,” Julian coos. “Go ahead and come.”

He continues to rub my clit, and the pressure building up in my stomach bubbles over. I come  _ loudly _ and convulse in his lap. My fingers dig into his skin, and his fingers slow to a gentle caress as I ride out my orgasm. I'm still trembling when it passes, and Julian pulls his hand away, shakes it out and flexes his fingers. If I weren't so impressed at his determination, I'd feel guilty about how long it took for me to finally finish. Julian wipes his hands on the sheets and holds me in both hands. I shoot him a chastising look. He apologizes insincerely and lays back on the bed, pulling me with him. I take a minute to relish in the afterglow.

“Was I doing something wrong? You took an awful lot longer to finish than usual,” Julian asks. 

“No, it wasn't you. I was just… distracted, which makes it harder.”

I must have been making a face because Julian looks at me full of concern.

“Is there something you'd like to talk about?”

I decline and he strokes my hair. We lay like this for a moment, and I nearly forget he's been waiting for his turn since this morning. I trace small circles around his nipples and fiddle with the hair on his chest. Julian makes a low groan and his hips flinch up ever so slightly. My fingers trail down his chest and lightly flutter over his ribcage. 

Julian yelps and flinches away, but my fingers chase him and continue tickling. 

“Stop, stop!” He says while squirming and laughing between gasping breaths. He grabs my wrist in an attempt to stop me, so I sit up and tickle his other side. When he tries to grab my other wrist, I pin his arm down with my body and tickle the side closest to me. 

Julian is nearly tearing up when I finally decide to stop and let him catch his breath. He wraps his arms around my back and crashes me back into him so we are face-to-face. I let out a soft “oof” when I hit the bed. He presses his lips against my forehead and doesn't pull away.

“That was hardly fair,” he says. I can feel his smile against my lips, and I tilt my head up to chastely kiss the corner of his mouth. 

“No, it wasn't,” I say and slide my fingers down his torso again. He tenses up when I move over his chest and stomach, prepared for another onslaught, but he's been teased more than enough for one day. His cock is already slick by the time I grab it. He moans immediately and bucks into my hand at the slightest touch, and I realize how well he's been hiding his desperation. I scoot down next to his hips and sit up for a better angle.

Feeling less pressured to make him come immediately, I restart my strokes slowly and take in the way he whimpers and moves in response. His back arches off the bed and his hands tug at the sheets above his head.

“Julian, you look amazing,” I say as I twist my palm around the tip of his head. He tries to respond, but the words come out all shaky and unintelligible.

“What was that?” I ask mischievously.

“Th- thank!” Julian yelps as I lean over and take the tip of his cock in my mouth. He groans and thrusts up reflexively. I pull away.

“Tell me how it feels,” I instruct before returning to the tip of his cock. 

“It feels… good… your mmm-” His words are cut off by his wanton moaning again, and again, I pull away. 

“Tell me how it feels. When you stop, I stop.” 

Julian nods, and I lick the underside of his shaft from base to tip before taking him in my mouth again.  

“Your mou-mouth… s-s-so s-s-oft… wa-warm… feels, feels, so good, so… please… please more…  _ please please please _ .” Julian continues to cycle through gasping my name, “please”, and “more” before it all blurs into moans again. I can tell he's trying so, so hard to be good, but a rule’s a rule, so I pull away again. Julian whines, curses and bucks his hips needily. I wait until he's quiet and can properly articulate what he wants. 

“Please keep going.” It’s barely a whisper when he says it. I flash him a devilish grin and go down on him as far as I can before his cock hits the back of my throat.

“Fuck!” Julian shouts as his whole body is thrown into it. His hips and back arch up off of the mattress; his weight is supported by his shoulders and feet. My teeth intentionally graze him when I come back up, and Julian makes an almost gurgling noise in the back of his throat.

“Please?” He asks again. “Please keep going, please, darling.” I press a kiss into the tip before sucking it into my mouth. Before I can start to take the rest of him, there’s a knock on the door.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't spend as long on editing this, so feel free to let me know if I missed any grammar mistakes (;´・`)>


	4. Carriage

The carriage is here, and we have run out of time. We rush to untangle ourselves and throw on our clothes. My thighs are still slick when I pull my dress over my head, and Julian is tucking and rearranging himself to hide the fact that he’s still hard. I go downstairs as quickly as I had this morning. Julian ducks into the other room to wash his hands and dries them on his pants, leaving two wet handprints on his ass.  My sandals are already laced up by the time he joins me at the door. 

Julian sits on the floor and holds up his first boot. He gives me a quizzical look and scans the entryway for the other. It takes me a minute, but I remember that the match is probably still upstairs in the bedroom after he couldn’t get it off last night.

“Work on getting that one on, and I’ll go grab the other,” I say and dash back up the stairs. The boot ended up in the corner underneath a pile of the other clothes he wore last night. I retrieve it and bring it back downstairs. Julian is finishing up the clasps on the first boot when I drop the second next to him. He thanks me and starts cramming his foot into it. I steal a quick glance out the window. It looks like Nadia sent the usual carriage and driver- Harold, I think, though admittedly Julian is much better at remembering names - who is waiting outside the door. A few townsfolk have stopped to gawk at the carriage. Although Nadia always sends the most unadorned in her collection for discrepancy’s sake, it’s still leagues more exquisite than anything that typically rolls through this part of town. 

Both of Julian’s boots are securely on his feet when he stands up. Any lingering evidence of what we were up to has since vanished. I open the door and Julian greets the driver with a handshake and a warm smile. Julian asks him all sorts of questions about himself, and the level of detail that he remembers about someone that we see so seldomly is astounding. Knowing how much he is interested in and genuinely cares about other people makes me fall in love all over again.

The driver opens the door for us. Julian motions for me to go first and holds his hand out to offer support. With his help, I manage to get inside and sit on the cushioned bench facing forward. The carriage sways slightly as Julian climbs aboard. He sits opposite me with his back against the corner and his long legs bent uncomfortably. They resume their conversation through the window when the driver takes his seat in front, and off we go.

The city goes past us slowly at first. It’s only been about a year since Nadia’s renovation efforts began, but the results are already trickling through Vesuvia. The public works projects have mostly focused on the South End and the Flooded District, but the decreasing wealth disparity has allowed us to see improvements in our neighbourhood as well. I almost wish we could take a detour and look at all of the amazing progress Nadia has made, but I know we’re on a tight schedule. Julian is still talking away when I feel myself drift to sleep.

A sudden stop wakes me up with a lurch, and I tumble off of the bench. Julian, who looks like he has also just woken up, scrambles to pick me up and put me in his lap. He delicately grabs my face between his thumb and index finger and looks me over for bruises or bumps. He asks me a half dozen times if I’m okay, and I do my best to assure him that I am.

“Are you sure? No headache, nausea, dizziness?” He asks.

“Not any more than what I had before we got in,” I say and rotate around so we’re facing the same direction. Julian hugs me from behind and peppers my shoulders and hair with kisses. His grip tightens around my waist, and he rests his head on my shoulder. The carriage isn’t exactly accommodating for sitting this way, so I shift my weight around to try to get comfortable. Julian sucks air between his teeth and he gives me a little squeeze. At first, I think that I hurt him - not that he would have really minded-  until I feel his warm, heavy breath on my neck. 

I wiggle my hips against him, and his hands move up my chest and cup my breasts. The curtains were drawn sometime while I was asleep, but a strong jostle of the carriage could open them at any point. Something in Julian’s lap starts poking my ass, and I have a feeling it’s not just a dagger this time. I roll my hips along the outline of his cock. Whining, he palms my breasts through my dress. 

I lean forward, grab the hem of my skirt and hike it up to my waist so that only the thin fabric of my smallclothes and his pants separate us. His hips chase mine and I continue to grind myself into his lap. The rough friction between us makes me feel a certain energy from my stomach to my inner thighs. 

“Can you… do the spell?” Julian asks, making a circle with his finger and pointing around the cabin as he does. As vague as his request is, I know he wants me to cast a soundproofing charm on the inside of the carriage so our driver doesn’t notice. He fully intends to take me here and now.

“Do you really want to do that  _ here _ ?” I hiss. “In  _ Nadia’s _ carriage?” I press down a little harder against him for emphasis. 

Julian tenses for a moment then relaxes.  

“Please?” He whimpers, voice dripping with need. “Please, I haven’t all morning, and -” Julian’s sentence is stolen away by a low groan. I stop wiggling and shift my weight off of him for a second then gently come back down. I make sure to roll my hips over his cock with each downswing as I mime riding him. His hands sneak under my skirt and grip my bare thighs. I indulge him and put as much pressure as I can on his cock. Julian makes a low, rumbly noise from his chest.

“ _ Damn it,”  _ He mutters. “You’re as bad as Asra.” 

He’s right. This level of drawn-out teasing is usually more Asra’s thing. Admittedly, it was never my intention to make him wait this long, but now that I have him begging and desperate, I can’t help myself.

I raise my hand so he can see it and start the incantation. Julian kisses wherever he can reach while still thrusting against me. Just before the spell is cast, I look over my shoulder so he can see the smirk I’m giving him.

“No,” I say and interrupt the spell. 

He snakes his arms back up around my midsection and squeezes me tightly to him. His expression is full of yearning to the point of looking pained. He's flushed to the tips of his ears to the hollow of his throat. I make a soft sound and press myself against him as much as I can. He whimpers, and his palm moves down to press against the front of my smallclothes. I swat it away.

“I didn’t give you permission for that,” I whisper. It wasn’t a question. Julian exhales shakily against my shoulder and withdraws his hand without protest. I steal a peek out of the curtains; we’re just getting into the Heart District. We have time.

His fingers are almost twitchy as they rove over my body. They tug at the opening of the armhole of my dress. Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, he stops.

“May I? Please?’ Julian asks. I nod. His fingers slip under my dress and move under my breasts. Julian is doing a surprisingly good job staying quiet; unless our driver is intentionally listening for it, there’s little chance he could hear anything over the noise of the streets and the horses. 

I grip the underside of the bench for support and grind on him roughly. Julian tenses up and squeezes my breast on a reflex. His breathing is laboured and he is struggling to not make any noise above a quiet groan. I slide back and forth over his cock and wonder if he can feel how wet I am through our clothes. He shudders underneath me, and I look over my shoulder to inspect him. His face is twisted with the self-restraint he’s practising. From the looks of it, he’s biting his lip awfully hard. 

“I’m not going to-  _ mmm- _ from this… I’m not -  _ ah, fuck-  _ some  _ teenager. _ ” Julian’s voice is low and shaky and betrays the sentiment he’s trying to convey.

“Then don’t.”

I don’t let up, but I angle my hips forward so I can feel his cock on my clit. It takes a few attempts, but I eventually get it right and shiver with pleasure. Julian notices and groans in response. With a new incentive, I pick up the pace and focus on putting pressure toward the tip of his cock. Julian starts to shudder with every swipe and his hips thrust up against mine. Each tremor is more intense than the one before it until his whole body is shaking and he is squeezing me tightly. Realizing what is happening, I slow down and let him ride out his orgasm. 

After a few seconds, his grip goes limp, and I feel a growing wetness that I assume isn’t my own. I look back at Julian who is staring at me wide-eyed and mortified. 

“So much for not being a teenager,” I say as I pick up my skirt and cautiously lift it over Julian’s lap. He adjusts his legs a bit so I can sit next to him. He looks away nervously.

“Darling, would you mind, uh…” He glances down quickly at the wet spot in his lap. It’s more than a little noticeable, and he can’t exactly go out in public like that. I smile warmly and take his hand in mine. 

“Let's do it together.”

Julian looks at me and smiles uncomfortably, but lets me move his hand to the top of his pants anyway. I close my eyes and lend him my magic, strong and steadfast. His accepts even more timidly than usual. 

“When you're ready, just focus on the thought of the um… water evaporating away and move your hands over, uh, the spot,” I say in the most soothing, Asra-inspired voice I can muster. The way he spoke to me while walking me through spells always calmed my nerves and gave me a little confidence boost. I hope I have the same effect on Julian despite my faltering. He takes a few deep breaths and guides our hands over the stain on his pants. 

Before I open my eyes to inspect his work, I wait for his magic to release mine. When it does, I see Julian watching me. His smile is all teeth, and his eyebrows are still raised in discomfort. We both look down. The spot is gone. Julian laughs loudly, nervously, and pushes his hand through his hair.

“I don't suppose I can convince you to not tell Asra about this?” He asks. 

“Probably not.” 

He groans and pulls me into him. We're about halfway through the Heart District, and soon we will be at the palace. I wish I could tell him how proud I am of his magic without embarrassing him again. Asra would tease him mercilessly over this, but I know he would feel the same pride I do about Julian’s rapidly improving skills. 

We’re a tangle of limbs for a moment as we try to cuddle closer without getting our shoes on Nadia’s seats. Eventually, we sort ourselves out. I’m back across his now dry lap, and his arms are under my knees and shoulder blades, cradling me close to him. My head is resting on his chest. Julian’s breathing is much more under control now, and I can feel his heartbeat easing to a less hurried pace. 

“Hey, Julian,  _ if  _ we ever had kids, do you think they’d like the carriage rides to see your sister and Nadia?” I ask without thinking.

I instantly regret it. Julian scoffs softly.

“They’d probably get motion sick,” he replies without missing a beat. “Unless you know some hocus pocus to deal with that?” He didn’t even take a moment to think about it. I wonder if he’s considered this before.

“Just ginger. Do you really still think magic is just hocus pocus?”

He gives me a light squeeze and kisses my head. 

“Of course not.”

We relax into each other and try to relish the quiet intimacy of the carriage. I reach out to Asra with my heart - our heart- until I can feel him. He’s curled up asleep somewhere warm and safe with the friend we rode to Nopal. It’s his first long trip since everything happened last year. Julian and I are glad he’s getting a much-needed break from Vesuvia, but it’s hard not to miss him even though he’ll be back in a week or so for Portia’s birthday. We’ll have a lot to talk about when he gets back. 

The carriage stops, and Julian opens the curtain. We have arrived.


	5. Guest Room

Portia and Nadia meet us in the hall as we are escorted to the dining room. We exchange pleasantries, and Portia wraps Julian in a warm hug. All the tension from earlier seems to have dissipated. We take our seats at the grand table, and servers fill the hall soon after with the first course. The croquette looking amuse-bouches are delectable, but I decline the white vermouth as politely as possible.  

“Is the aperitif not to your liking?” Nadia asks. “Tell me what you would prefer and I shall have my servants bring it.”

I blush at the sudden intensity of their attention. Portia narrows her eyes suspiciously, and I can feel Julian staring, but I don’t dare to even look at him. I know it’s a major faux-pas, but considering the circumstances, I really don’t have the stomach for alcohol. 

“No,” I start slowly. “I just haven’t been feeling my best since last night.”

“Drinking would probably help, you know,” Portia says. “Hair of the dog and all.”

Nadia places a gentle hand over Portia’s.

“Would pomegranate juice be more suitable?” She asks.

I nod, and Nadia instructs one of the wait staff to bring it and sends the rest out of the dining hall. I can only guess what concerned faces Julian is making at me. 

“I’ve been considering changing the date of next year’s Masquerade.” Nadia pauses for effect. “In this past, it’s been in January to honor the birth of my husband. However, now that we are all assured that Lucio has finally been put to rest, I feel it would be more appropriate if the Masquerade were moved to February from now on to honour my new spouse.”

Portia slaps her hand in the middle of the table to show us her engagement ring. Julian feigns surprise as if Portia didn’t tell him the day after, and I feign surprise as if Julian hadn’t let it slip almost immediately after finding out. Nadia doesn’t look entirely convinced by our facade but says nothing. It’s rare for Nadia to wear such an openly tender expression, but they’re both absolutely beaming. Julian picks up her hand and holds it in his, turning it this way and that so the light dances across the gems’ facets. The ring is gorgeous with an impressive centre diamond and gold filigree vines encircling an imperial topaz gem on either side. He squeezes her hands with both of his and watches her with such intense joy that it looks like he’s about to cry. Portia regales us with the whole story in a half-hushed voice, and Julian listens intently and with so much excitement that I almost forget it’s at least the second time he’s heard it.

When she’s finished, Nadia summons the servants who bring out the next course and my juice. The topic shifts immediately, and any mention of future masquerades leaves out the date switch. 

The conversation over the  rest of dinner mostly revolves around Julian and Nadia discussing city planning. As attractive as Julian is when he’s talking about something he’s passionate about, the conversation is, frankly, boring. I interject and contribute when appropriate, but if I knew anything about public works in my previous life, it’s been long forgotten. 

My mind wanders, and I find myself thinking about all of the decor changes in the past year. Namely, the Devil-inspired artwork has all been taken from the wall, including the giant painting depicting the dinner with the major arcana. In its place is an equally large painting of dozens of cherub-like cats with round faces and little wings. The artist somehow managed to make it look tasteful, or at least more so than the painting it replaced. Portia was in awe when Nadia surprised her with it and spent at least a good half-hour admiring it. It’s hard to imagine that the other servants aren’t aware of their engagement, but I understand why they want to keep it as an open-secret until the official announcement. 

“... Portia and I have been very pleased with the results of the literacy program we’ve started at the palace, and I’d like to introduce something similar for the whole of Vesuvia. How do you think that would be received by the citizenry, Doctor Devorak?”

He thinks for a minute, and before he can answer, the servants bring in the lobster. Julian is almost childlike in his excitement. The servants make a show of setting down the platters and little bowls of different sauces. Julian, Portia, and Nadia are given Chardonnay. One of the servants approaches to fill up my glass, and before I can decline, he winks and quietly assures me it’s non-alcoholic. Once they’re finished presenting our main course, all but the wine pourers return to the kitchen. Nadia takes her first bite, and we all follow suit. Everything is delectable, as always, and even my bubbly grape juice pairs well with the meal. 

“To answer your previous question, milady, literacy is most likely lowest in the South Side, but almost everyone there is too busy working to take the time to attend any sort of schooling - even the children. However, perhaps providing meals or some other incentive would persuade parents to at least send their little ones if they can’t attend themselves. That would probably attract the children who gather around the docks as well,” Julian says between bites.

Nadia considers this for a moment. The whole conversation reminds me of the first year after my resurrection and the soft, warm way Asra’s bare skin felt against mine when he held me in his lap and read to me. I didn’t understand what he was saying, but his voice alone was calming; it was one of the few sounds that weren’t terrifying and confusing back then. When I started to speak a little, he would hold the books so I could see them and drag his finger underneath each word. 

At first, he only read children’s stories with happy endings. As I learned, the material got more complex and started including histories and magic theory. The first time I recognized a written word, I pointed to it on the page and read it to him in my still-garbled voice. I thought I had done something wrong because Asra quickly closed the book, set it down next to us, and held me tightly to him. He was quiet a moment before murmuring about how proud he was. I could’ve sworn I felt him tear up as he nuzzled into my shoulder. The next day, he left unexpectedly on one of his trips.

While I’m reminiscing, we finish the lobster. I make an effort to be more active in the conversation and chat with Portia about Pepi and her garden.

“... Furthermore, I feel it improper for you to continue practising medicine in Vesuvia without a legitimate license. I would loathe fall into nepotism and turn a blind eye to your practice while punishing others for doing the same.” Nadia says coolly. Portia and I immediately drop our conversation and tune back to our dining partners. Julian looks uneasy, but beyond that, he’s hard to read. “However, I’ve already sent word to Nazali asking them to assist you in preparing for your examinations, if you’d find that arrangement suitable.” 

Julian agrees enthusiastically, and the two continue to discuss the details of Nazali’s visit. It goes unsaid, but no one at the table actually expects Julian to stop his practice in the interim; Nadia knows how underserved the South Side is in terms of medical professionals - whether licensed or not.

 Thankfully, the salad, cheese, and dessert courses go by quickly. When the after-dinner coffee is served, Nadia extends an invitation for us to spend the night in one of the guest chambers. As much as I’d like to go home, walking all the way back this late can be dangerous, and I’d hate to keep any of the carriage drivers out at this hour.

After the conversation finally fizzles out, a servant escorts Julian and me to our guest chamber. It’s the same one that we’ve been staying in for the past year, and a few extra sets of clothes are already in the armoire. As soon as the door is shut behind us, Julian crouches so we are eye level and places the back of his hand against my forehead.

“You’ve been acting strangely all evening. Is everything alright?” He asks.

“Everything’s fine,” I assure him. “I just didn’t feel like drinking is all.” I tussle his hair before he stands up and starts undressing for bed. I go to the armoire and take out our nightclothes. Julian is sitting on the edge of the bed and struggling to pull off his boots. I drape our clothes over the bed frame and sit next to him. He glances up at me, pulls off his second boot, and shimmies out of the rest of his clothes. Julian reaches over me to take his robe, and I push his hand away.

“Lay down,” I instruct. He obeys, and I pull out three silk scarves I had hidden underneath our clothes. His breath catches immediately, and he starts to get hard at the sight alone. I bind his feet together and to the bed first and move up to do the same with his wrists. He places his hands above his head as an offering and breathes heavily as I wind the second scarf around his wrists and secure it to the headboard. He watches me wide-eyed and I wrap the last scarf in my hands and pull it tightly.  I straddle his torso, rub my palms up his chest, and grasp at his chest hair. 

There’s only one scarf left, and I can’t decide whether I want to wrap it around his eyes or his mouth. His gaze moves from my face to my hands as I stretch the last scarf between them. The hungry way he’s watching me makes my heart flutter. I lean over so I am laying against his body with my face inches from his. He tries to sit up to close the gap between our lips, and I pull back slowly until the binds on his wrist give him no more leeway. He strains weakly against the knots and mumbles my name while watching me with half-lidded eyes.

“Please,” he groans. 

Although it is probably in the best interest of our modesty for me to gag him, I can’t deny myself the tantalizing way he groans and begs me to touch him when he’s like this. I press a quick kiss against his lips, and he tries to follow when I pull back again. 

“Down,” I command. He obeys without a moment’s hesitation. “Head up.” He gives me just enough room to tie the last scarf around his eyes and drops back into the pillow when I finish the knot. Julian’s body is taut beneath me like a stretched canvas waiting for me to paint it with teeth marks and bruises. 

“Can you see?” I ask.  
“No.” His voice is breathy and soft, but still heavy with anticipation. 

“Good.” I kiss the bridge of his nose over the fabric, then grab him by the chin and tilt his head up. 

Julian whimpers a quiet “please” when he feels my lips brush against the underside of his jaw. I indulge him and flick my tongue across the skin. His chest vibrates with his groan. I move down so my lips are halfway between his ear and shoulder.

“Should I bite you here and leave you covered in bruises so tomorrow morning the whole palace staff knows how needy you are?” I ask. 

Julian tenses slightly and nods.

“So Nadia knows you couldn’t even hold off one night while you were a guest at her home?”

His hips rise slightly and he whimpers. I can’t tell if the blush that’s creeping out from under the blindfold is from lust or embarrassment.

“... So she knows you couldn’t even control yourself on the short trip here in  _ her carriage _ ? Should we let Nadia and the staff know that you were behaving like - what was it that you said earlier? Like a horny teenager?” I ask.

Julian laughs a dry, mirthless laugh and turns every shade of pink. 

“That, er, I was-”

I open my mouth around his throat, making sure that my teeth graze his skin.

“Should we?”  
The laughter instantly stops, and he’s back to whimpering.

“God, please,” he pants. 

I sink my teeth into the delicate skin. Julian groans salaciously and tilts his head as far away as possible to give me all the room I need to continue biting and sucking the side of his throat.

“With as loud as you’re being, I don’t think we’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning for them to know.”

He cuts himself off mid-moan and takes a moment to compose himself.  
“Do you want me to be quiet, then?” He asks, suddenly sounding uncharacteristically shy.  
“No.”

Julian nearly shouts the second after. I move down to his collarbone. His whole body tenses up. My body is lifted slightly as his back arches to lean up into the bite. I pull away and trace my fingers up the red trail left in the wake of my affections. Most of the marks are superficial enough that they’ll be gone by morning, but for the rest, there’s always a magical fix. 

I roll off his chest, kneel next to him, and put my hands in my lap.  
“Darling?” He says and turns to where the mattress is sinking under my weight. I hum so he knows I’m still here. After coming to on Valdemar’s dissection table, he’s uneasy about being bound and left alone, though Asra says he was more than okay with it beforehand.

I trace runes and squiggles on Julian’s thighs, and he makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a chortle. He’s definitely too ticklish for this, so instead, I slide my hand between his thighs and underneath him.

For a few beats, he’s entirely silent as he processes what I’m doing. Then, he’s louder than he’s been all night, begging me to continue as my fingers roam toward his ass. We don’t have any proper lubricants in the guest room, so I won’t be doing even  _ half _ of what he’s asking me to do, but that’s no reason not to tease him all the same. I pull my hand away and press two fingertips to his lips. He takes them delicately into his mouth, and I slide them in the rest of the way. His tongue wraps around and between them, eagerly coating them with as much saliva as he can.

Julian’s drool trails down his chin when I pull my fingers away. I swipe my other thumb over it and pull away from him completely. I wedge my hand between his thighs, and he opens them to the best of his ability. The loud way he’s pleading me to go on is certainly going to be the office gossip among the servants tomorrow if any happen to walk past our room. I press my finger against him and his whole body lurches forward, arching and desperate for more. I rub his opening with enough pressure to feel good, but not enough to actually enter him. 

“Please, I,  _ ah, ah!-” _ Julian makes a few more fervid noises as his voice quavers. “Please, in-inside.”

“We don’t have lube,” I remind him.  
“Don’t-  don’t care.”

“It’ll hurt.”  
“Good.”

Begging or not, I have no intention of actually hurting him, so I compromise and gently poke one finger to the first knuckle inside him. He groans my name and a steady stream of curses and tries to press himself down on my hand. I know toying with him like this will cut his staying ability by half  _ at least _ , but looking at the beautiful mess of a man beneath me makes it more than worth it. He encourages me to give him more, to take him, to ravish him. The sounds he’s making after I’ve entered him just this little bit make fucking him very tempting, but without lube, it will have to wait for another time. I pull away shortly after; I can’t take watching on the sidelines anymore. 

Julian whines as my touch leaves him. I’m careful so that the next thing he feels is my pussy sliding down on him, taking him fully. He shouts something in his native tongue, then curses in one I understand. I lean over him with my palms on either side of his underarms and start off fast and hard, giving him no time to acclimate. He’s squirming underneath me, but whether it’s from pleasure or restraint is impossible to tell.

“Fuck -  _ fuck! - _ please, slow -- slow down, I’ll-  _ oh god, god, goddamnit, fuck! - I can’t, I’ll-” _

I press my finger to his lips. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” I tell him. 

The room is filled with his (now much quieter) groans and the telltale smack of my ass against his thighs as I ride him quickly, roughly. Hopefully, we’re lucky and the palace staff don’t hear him through the walls, though the prospect certainly doesn’t seem to bother Julian. I sink all the way down on him and wait for him to calm down. His hips roll up instinctively trying to take over despite not having much to work with in terms of leverage. With... other things, Julian certainly has  _ plenty _ to work with.

“Is everything alright, darling?” Julian asks, still breathing heavily.

“Just admiring the view,” I say and rub my hands up his chest, resting most of my weight on them.

“Then by all means.”

Julian’s breathing slows considerably while I pause to caress his chest and his shoulders, careful not to hit the ticklish spots on his ribs and tummy. Without warning, I dig my nails into his skin and return to riding him at a quick, even pace. He’s shouting again, all previous instructions to be quiet seemingly forgotten. I squeeze his cock and he makes a deep, throaty sound. I make a pattern of it - relax on the downstroke, squeeze on the upstroke, relax on the downstroke - and Julian starts trembling. 

“Dar-- Darling, I, I’m- _ ugh, oh god, oh god-  _ I’m going… Do you want -  _ Ack! Ah, fuck! -  _ pull out?”

I shush him again, but as obedient as he usually is, he can’t stop the noises he’s making. I keep my pace. Julian tries to warn me again, but he can’t get the words out before his orgasm hits him. His whole body tenses and it sounds like there’s another murder in the palace with how he’s almost screaming as he comes. I feel his cock twitch inside me but don’t know when he’s finished until his body is limp and he’s done yelling. 

“We screwed up once already; might as well make the most of it, right?” I say despite the sinking feeling that I’ve just made a huge mistake. Julian’s chest heaves as he struggles to catch his breath. The colour on his chest and cheeks dissipates after a while, and his breathing evens out. As soon as he can muster it, he starts encouraging me to sit on his face so he can be punished for finishing first by having to deal with the mess he made.

I shake my head no - not that he can see it - and reach up to undo his blindfold. He looks at me quizzically as I slide off of him to undo his wrists. A small amount of his come pools around the base of his cock and slicks my inner thighs. 

I flop down beside him, and Julian sits up and undoes the knot around his ankles before scooping me up in his arms and laying us down. With my head pressed against his chest, I can feel his breathing and hear his heartbeat. The stickiness between my thighs reminds me that part of him is still inside me searching for fertile ground to take root and grow. To grow and to make me swell with a child.  _ His _ child. My chest fills with sharp prickles of anxiety at the thought.

Julian puts his hand under my jaw and tenderly guides me to look at him. Based on the concerned way he’s searching my expression, I must have been making a face. 

“Please, dear, I want to help,” he says quietly. His voice is full of worry and hurt. “Please, tell me what’s bothering you.” 

He squeezes me closer to him with the hand that is still wrapped around me. I tilt my head back down into the space between his shoulder and underarm. The words get caught in my throat when I try to speak. Julian brushes my hair with his fingers and rubs my back reassuringly. The dread eases a bit, and I swallow dryly.

“Julian?” I say quietly.

“Yes, dear?”

“Do you really want a baby?” I know the question is stupid and that we literally discussed this no more than a few hours ago, but something inside me wants to check that he hasn’t wavered. Deep down, part of me just wants to hear him say it again. Julian stops stroking my hair and breathes deeply.

“I want you to make whatever decision you feel is right for you without any pressure or reservations.” 

“And I will. But what do  _ you _ want?” I try to not be annoyed with his sudden dodginess. 

“I want you to be happy.”

“Ilya,  _ please _ .” I hope to catch him off-guard with his real name. The room is completely silent, and I don’t even hear any foot traffic from the hall. I struggle to find my voice again, and I wonder if Julian is experiencing the same thing. When I can finally speak, it’s squeaky and broken; every note of fear abundantly obvious.  “Do  _ you _ want a baby?”

Julian is quiet for a while. The breaks in our conversation seem to drag on and on while the tension grows. I can barely hear him when he finally answers.

“Yes,” he whispers before pausing again. “Do you?” 


	6. Home

The sun had just fully cleared the horizon by the time I get back to the shop. I light the lantern, unlock the door, and wipe the morning dew from my sandals on the welcome mat. Asra is supposed to return sometime later today -just a few days early for Portia’s birthday - and I’m already dreading the kinds of conversations the three of us will need to have when he arrives. 

Julian is still at the clinic and probably will be for the rest of the day. It wasn’t unusual for him to get caught up with patients and come home after I had gone to bed, but when he wasn’t back by yesterday morning, I went and checked on him only to find out that he had already been awake for almost 30 hours straight. I took over monitoring the patient for most of the day while Julian slept. The shop didn’t open but taking a day off to read and force a stranger to eat more bread and drink more water so Julian could get some rest was fine by me.

Sooner than I’m expecting, customers start trickling in. Some are regulars looking for their usual materials, and others are new faces. A few of them feel some sort of need to chide me about the shop being closed yesterday. I try to deal with them politely, but I’m far too tired to not come across a little curt. As always, there are a few looky-loos who simply drop in to see what the “countess’s magicians” are up to. A group of absolute beginners come in around midday, so I make sure to spend extra time with them both for businesses reasons and for the personal satisfaction of being helpful. I know all too well how daunting of a task starting to learn magic can be.

The day passes quickly, and I’m so busy that I almost don’t notice when Asra walks in. When he hugs me, he wraps both arms around me tightly and Faust slithers out of his bag and up my arm. He looks unusually well-rested and his usual earthy smell has been replaced by dust and sweat and strong spices. He kisses me indelicately and far too passionately for working hours.

"How was your trip?" I ask after I pull away.

"Why don't I get cleaned up first, and I'll tell you all about it?"

I agree, and Asra goes upstairs to wash up. After he is bathed, he comes back downstairs and we  work together for the rest of the afternoon. When things slow down, and he tells me all about his recent travels and a few  _ interesting _ things he’s brought back for the three of us to try later. 

“Anyway,” Asra says with a note of finality. “What have you and Ilya been up to?”

My mood shifts immediately. It feels like my heart is in my throat. Asra’s eyebrows furrow and he puts a hand on my shoulder.

“What happened?” His voice is calm but worried nonetheless.

I give myself a moment to breathe then explain everything- not that there’s a whole lot to explain. He looks at me with surprise, but there isn’t a hint of anger or fear. I feel myself start to tear up and gesticulate almost as wildly as Julian when he’s upset. Asra wraps his arms around me, pulls me close to him, and kisses near my ear. 

“Are you late?” He asks when I’ve settled down a little. I pull away but keep my arms around his waist.

“Not yet, no. Not for a few more days,” I say.

Asra considers this for a moment.

“Would you like to ask the cards about it?”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Do you want to read, or should I?”

“I can do it.”

Asra reaches into his pocket and presses the deck into my palm. I take it with a sigh and head to the back room. Asra follows, rubbing his hand over my back as we go. The candle on the reading table is still burning from the last customer. I move the cards over the smoke then begin shuffling them. Next to me,  Asra watches with a soft, encouraging smile. I draw three cards, lay them on the table face down, pick one to flip over, and gasp.

The Empress, upright.

The card's energy is warm and congratulatory, but the pit in my stomach makes it feel more like I've revealed the Tower. Asra squeezes my shoulders reassuringly. He needs no explanation of what I felt from the card. Overwhelmed by dozens of thoughts and feelings, I twist into his grip and hug him tightly around his waist. He reciprocates, kissing my temple.

Before either of us can process what is laying on the table, the shop's door chimes. 

“Welcome! Just a moment, please,” Asra calls to the main room. “Are you alright?” He asks me.

I nod. “Yeah, just need a minute. You can go out. Really, I'll be fine.”

He gives me a final quick squeeze and kiss on the forehead before leaving to help whoever is in the shop. They chat about a spell the customer is working on, and Asra lists off a few suggestions.

While they're chatting in the next room, I decide to flip over the other two cards on the table. The first is the Page of Cups which serves only to confirm what I had already gathered from the Empress. I linger on the card and trace the outline of the vibrant goldfish splashing on its face. The Minor Arcana are usually much harder for me to read, but the message from this card is simple enough that I feel confident I'm not misinterpreting it.

I put my hand over the final card and can already feel unsettling energy radiating from it. With a deep breath, I flip it over. Nine of Swords. I think back to the first time I had seen that card drawn in a reading. It was one Asra was doing for himself years ago as an example for me. He never told me what questions he was posing when we practised like this, and I remember my curiosity being almost unbearable when Asra winced at its appearance. 

“The Nine of Swords represents nightmares and the querent’s fears and anxieties… And asks the querent to let go of them,” Asra explained slowly. He looked at me with unfamiliar desperation and opened his mouth a few times as if he were trying to say something. After a few moments of silence, he smiled warmly and suggested we get lunch. 

“Since you're in today, would you happen to have time for a reading?” The customer asks Asra. 

“Well, my partner has my deck at the moment, but if you'd like to come back tomorrow morning, I certainly can.”

I quickly slip the three cards back into the deck and pop out of the reading room.

“Oh! I'm finished with my studies! You can have your deck back,” I say as press the cards into his chest. He takes them from me and smiles at the stranger. 

“Excellent timing. Right this way.” Asra gestures at the back room, and he and the customer disappear behind the curtain. 

The sky is already streaked with the purples and reds of twilight when I step outside to extinguish the lantern. 

“Hey!” Julian’s voice booms from a distance. I turn and peer down the street. A tall, vague silhouette waves an arm over its head. I wait outside until he is close enough for me to hug. Julian's eyes are heavy with exhaustion- more so than usual - and he slumps in my arms. 

“Long day?” I ask. Julian nods.

“And you?”

“Same.”

“Is Asra back?”

“Yeah. He's doing a reading for a client though.”

Julian acknowledges my response with a quiet, content noise. We go inside, and Julian heads upstairs wordlessly. Figuring neither Julian nor Asra had eaten a sufficient meal in a while, I start working on the mise en place for dinner. I'm just finishing up chopping the onions when Asra and the customer emerge from the reading room. The querent appears more than happy with the reading and is speaking to Asra animatedly as they walk to the front door. 

Eventually, they say their goodbyes, and Asra joins me in the kitchen. He looks over what I’ve prepped so far- aubergines, courgettes, tomatoes, and onions.

“Ratatouille?” He asks.

I nod. I wasn’t sure how long his reading would be, so I had planned on making something that was simple enough to finish by myself just in case. While Asra heats oil in a pan, I slice up the rest of the ingredients. Aside from Asra’s humming, we work in silence until everything is in the pan and simmering. 

“What do you think about all of this?” I ask abruptly when he turns to go grab a book. He stops and looks at me.

“Honestly, I’m just surprised. None of the Major Arcana has had children, at least as far as I know, so I didn’t think it was even possible.”

“What do you want to do?” The words come out awkwardly, and my chest hurts from the anxiety of what his response will be.

“I’ll support whatever will make you happy, though I am curious about what would happen.”

“It’s probably Julian’s,” I blurt out, regretting it the second I do.

Asra shrugs. “Yeah, I know. Is that a problem?”

“Is it for you?”

“No. Why would it be?”

“I…uh.” I don’t have an answer, so I shrug. Asra smiles and quietly sneaks upstairs to grab a book.

“Ilya is asleep. He looks like he had a rough night,” Asra says, voice full of concern when he’s halfway down the stairs. I nod. The two of us head over to the reading room and curl up on a pile of cushions while we wait for dinner to be ready.  

After a half-hour or so, Asra gets up to check on the food, and I go upstairs to wake up Julian. 

Julian is sleeping face down and fully clothed. He didn’t even get a chance to take off his boots before he passed out. I gently shake his shoulder. He blinks awake, and I tell him that dinner is ready. Slowly, he pulls himself up and heads downstairs with me. By the time we’re downstairs, Asra already has three full plates on the reading room table. 

We sit in silence for a moment to give Julian time to adjust to being awake again. 

“Are you okay, Ilya? You look more exhausted than usual,” Asra asks, not able to help himself when it comes to teasing Julian.

Julian nods and tells us about the patient he had been with since two days ago now. Apparently, the only reprieve he got over the last 72 hours or so was when I had stopped by to let him sleep. I feel guilty that I hadn’t stayed longer.

“A  _ teenager  _ with delirium tremens, of all things. His aunt, I think, finally found him at my clinic a few hours ago and took him home against my advice. He looked to be through the worst of it, at least,” Julian says sounding too tired to be annoyed. 

Asra and I exchange a look, neither of us quite knowing what to say. Asra pats the top of Julian’s hand and the room is quiet again save the sound of flatware on dishes.

“What have you been up to the past few weeks?” Julian asks between bites.

“Just exploring,” Asra says. “I brought back a few things for us to try later if you’re interested.”

“That will be nice.”  Julian’s head is in his hand, and he looks as if he’s about to pass out at the table. More silence.

“We did a reading this afternoon. Asra and me, I mean,” I say. 

“What about?” Julian asks, doing his best to not yawn.

I look down at my lap and then back up at him. It takes him a bit, but I can see the moment it clicks for him by the way his eyes widen over the heavy bags. 

“I drew the Empress,” I mumble.

Julian’s eyes narrow and he glances up to the ceiling as if he expects the card’s meaning to be written there.

“Empress… not your card, no, yours is the fool…Empress is the cow, right?” Julian asks. Asra nods but says nothing. “Not Pasha’s then, hers is the cat…” 

Julian deliberates over which of Nadia’s sisters go with which Arcana for a while, then slaps himself on the forehead.

“Oh, the Empress is Queen Satrinava,” Julian announces.

Asra nods. “Mhmm. What does that card mean?”

“Control of your own destiny. Hard work. Authority.”

“Close, but that’s the Emperor. What is the  _ Empress _ ?”

The card is probably the most obvious of the Major Arcana, and the fact that he's taking this long to figure it out is either a byproduct of willful ignorance or sheer exhaustion. Either way, it’s abundantly clear I picked the wrong time to bring this up. Julian repeats the words “cow” and “Empress” to himself while he thinks. Suddenly, he sits upright and covers his hand with his mouth.

He's got it.

“Are you…?”

I nod meekly, barely able to tolerate the intensity of his gaze. He smiles broadly for a moment, then remembers himself and switches to a more neutral expression. Asra stands up and starts clearing the table.

“This is going to be a long conversation. Perhaps it should wait until morning when we’re all well-rested and thinking clearly,” Asra says, then turns to me. “I can see Ilya to bed if you wouldn’t mind making some tea?”

Julian looks like he wants to protest, but he doesn’t have the energy. Asra puts the dishes in the sink and leads him upstairs while I wait for the tea. Once it’s done steeping, I take two of cups upstairs as carefully as I can, figuring it’d be better to make a second trip than to spill them. By the time I get to our bed, Julian, now in his pajamas, is already asleep and sprawled out in the middle. Asra, who is sitting cross-legged on the other side of him, takes a cup and drinks with me in peaceful silence. When I finish, I set the cup on the floor and quickly join Julian in sleep.

 

* * *

 

A sudden lurch from the mattress wakes me up abruptly. It’s difficult to see, but I can make out Julian sitting upright and clutching the sheets. He’s trembling and gasping for breath.

“Ilya?” Asra whispers, his voice raspy with sleep. Julian says nothing and doesn’t even turn when Asra says his name. I stroke his arm to comfort him, and he shirks away. Although it is summer, the amount of sweat he’s produced can’t all be accounted for by the heat. Asra summons a ball of dim light in his hands and his eyes meet mine across the bed.

“Would you mind getting him a glass of water?” Asra asks, looking about as tired as I feel. He glances at Julian, who is still staring straight ahead. “And maybe a towel?”

I nod and try to get out of bed as delicately as I can. As I go down the stairs to the kitchen, I can hear Asra’s voice, soft and slow, trying to talk Julian down. Between the hectic night we had at the clinic and the news that we’re expecting, it’s really not all that surprising that the stress finally got to him. I’m careful not to drop it as I grab a glass from the shelf and fill it under the tap.

Julian doesn’t have nightmares every night but often enough that most of the time it’s easier for him to just stay awake until he passes out from exhaustion. Sometimes the nightmares are about the storm he and Portia survived as children. Other times it’s his tenure as a battlefield medic or the things he witnessed in the dungeons during the plague. Occasionally, it’s his hanging and waking up on Valdemar’s dissection table. Regardless, he usually doesn’t bring it up, and Asra and I have learned not to ask. 

I turn off the water and go back upstairs to get a towel. If Julian is willing to go back to sleep tonight, he’ll need something to help him get there. Mazelinka gave me her secret “soup” recipe a while ago, and I’m fairly certain we have everything we need for it. I throw a towel that I’m fairly certain is clean over my shoulder and head back to the bedroom. 

Asra turns as I enter the room. He’s lit the candle next to the bed and is holding Julian instead of the light. Asra is gripping Julian’s hand firmly and pressing it against his chest as he walks him through the breathing techniques he taught me to deal with my anxiety and headaches - the same ones I had used with Julian before he was hanged. Asra moves his free hand off of Julian’s back and pulls the towel off my shoulder. He wipes the sweat off his hands and motions for Julian to take the water from me. He does, seemingly much calmer now, and finishes the glass before handing it back to Asra, who sets it on the nightstand and blots the sweat on Julian’s face. Julian takes the towel weakly and runs it through the hair that's plastered to his forehead. 

“Ilya?” Asra says. Julian looks up this time, though his expression is still somewhere between a grimace and pure exhaustion. “Do you want a bath?” Julian nods, and I excuse myself to go fill the little wooden tub. It’s the perfect size for Asra and me; therefore, it’s much too small for Julian to fit comfortably, but it will have to do for the time being. I focus for a moment and conjure up enough warm water to fill it halfway and hope that I’ve taken the right amount of displacement into account. 

“Ready!” I call out as quietly as I can while still making sure they can hear me. Asra is holding a magically sourced light again, and Julian is trudging behind closely with a candle. When they get to the tub, Julian sets the candle down on the floor, strips out of his soaked night clothes, and folds himself awkwardly into the tub. His knees are sticking far out of the water, and he can’t properly lean back, but he looks more comfortable here than he did in bed at least. Asra’s light dissipates, and he picks up the candle to light the others around the room.  

“Would you like me to make some of Mazelinka’s soup?” I ask.

“That would be nice, thank you,” Julian says, smiling half-heartedly. 

I take one of the lit candles and go back downstairs to gather ingredients. I think I know where the instructions Asra transcribed from her are. Hopefully, I can find them in the dark. I light a few more candles and begin digging around the cabinets in earnest, pulling out the things I know the brew needs - a few types of bark, a handful of different flowers - and set them on the counter. Tucked behind the bottle of valerian root are the instructions. I’ve made this brew enough times by now that I should have it memorized but keeping track of what goes in when is impossible.  

The start of the concoction is simple enough, but everything must be timed precisely. Things have been unsettlingly quiet upstairs, but I don’t dare leave my work and risk ruining all the ingredients. I reach out to Asra with my magic. He acknowledges my presence by placing a hand over his heart. The other is still holding Julian’s. Julian looks much better than earlier, but distress is still etched in his face.  

“What’s bothering you?” Asra asks. His voice is as gentle and soothing as ever. Julian opens his mouth a few times like he’s going to deny it, but sighs instead.

“I, er, the thing is, this all happened years ago. Lifetimes ago, and I’m still not over it for some reason, but I should be. It’s just-” Julian’s breath catches, and he breathes loudly for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice is shaky like he’s trying to not cry. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this. How can I be this little one’s protector and provider if I can’t even get over things that happened so long ago? How could I possibly be  _ good _ enough to be a father? It was foolish of me to even think-”

It’s been a long time since I’ve heard Julian talk about himself like this. I have a feeling I’m not supposed to be seeing this, but Asra makes no attempt to sever the connection.

“Ilya,” Asra presses a finger to Julian’s lips. “Whether or not you’re ready is something you’ll have to answer for yourself, but I’ve seen you around kids. You are caring and intelligent and selfless. This-” Asra makes a lazy circle with his hand- “doesn’t take away any of that. I know you will make a wonderful parent.” 

Asra’s hand moves across Julian’s cheek and runs through his hair. Julian makes a second, more genuine attempt at a smile.

“So will you, Asra.”

Asra pulls him in for a kiss, and I can feel the warm tingle of arousal run up his spine as it deepens. I’m definitely not supposed to be seeing this. I back out of the connection and try to refocus on the brew which is now threatening to boil over due to my inattentiveness. 

Despite everything, I somehow manage to save the potion. I ladle the finished product into a bowl and bring it back up to Julian who is curled up in bed with Asra. However their conversation ended, he looks much calmer now. He takes the bowl in two hands and brings it to his lips, all but ignoring the spoon hitting his face. Julian finishes it quickly and gives the dish back. I set it on the ground next to my cup from earlier and promise myself that I’ll take care of it in the morning. It doesn’t take long for Mazelinka’s soup to start taking effect.

“Julian?” I say before he starts to droop with fatigue.

“Yes, dear?”

“I know you want this but… are you sure you’re ready?” 

Julian looks slightly taken aback by the question. He turns to Asra, who squeezes his hand encouragingly. Julian turns back to me and a soft smile pulls at his lips. 

“More than anything,” Julian says.

“Good. So am I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fingers crossed I didn't end up writing Asra like a short, magical Julian?
> 
> Sorry, no smut in this one. Promise I won't make it a habit! (^▽^；)


	7. Package

The next morning, Asra makes everyone omelettes with spinach, onion, and some of the sumac he picked up on his travels for breakfast. Julian and I having to fend for ourselves cooking-wise is probably one of the most difficult aspects of Asra leaving. It’s always a treat when he comes home with new ingredients to try. The shop stays closed for the second day this week, and I can already anticipate the naggy comments I’ll get about it tomorrow. Likewise, Julian stays home from his clinic - his patients know to find him here if it’s truly an emergency - and we all head to the reading room for a very uncomfortable discussion. 

Asra and I settle into a pile of pillows against the wall, and Julian stretches out across us with his head in my lap and hips in Asra’s. Asra adjusts him slightly to keep Julian’s pointy ass from digging into his thigh. I twirl my fingers through Julian’s hair, and he hums contentedly. The worst of this conversation is over, but anxiety coils in my gut regardless. We dance around the subject for a while as if we are each hoping someone else will broach it. Julian tells Asra about his sister’s engagement, and Asra tells Julian about helping Nadia plan it. There’s a lull in the conversation, so I bring up Julian’s exams and Nazali’s visit and the new paintings I saw in the palace. The topic changes again, and we all retell various animal-related stories for much longer than anyone is truly interested. There’s quiet again, and I can’t think of anything to say to discreetly get us sidetracked. 

“Well, let’s discuss the elephant in the room then, shall we? You pulled the Empress, right? Queen Satrinava’s card. And she had seven children. Does that mean we’ll have seven?” Julian asks with a grin.

“Uhm… no,” I say flatly. 

“No? I don’t think I’d quite mind having seven little ones running around.”

Asra scoffs. “I would.”

“I suppose we could settle on six?”

Asra and I groan, and Julian laughs. Admittedly, having a whole little brood of Julians and Asras doesn’t sound like the  _ worst _ thing in the world, but figuring out how to make it work with one little one in our tight space is going to be enough of an issue. When his laughter dies down, there’s an awkward break. I resist the urge to bring up Pepi for the third time.

Asra makes a face and picks his next words conscientiously. “What exactly do you want my role in this to be?”

“We love you, and this changes nothing. They’d be your child just as much as ours,” Julian responds sounding almost offended. Asra looks taken aback. My fingers twirling Julian’s hair have since devolved into hard, flat-handed strokes, not unlike those I’ve given Inanna. Julian notices the shocked looks on our faces and blushes, squirming uncomfortably. “I mean, er… if that’s what you want, of course. Is it? What you want, Asra?” 

“It is, but it  _ does _ change things.”

Asra goes on to talk about his worries about feeling trapped in Vesuvia and wanting to travel, both alone and with us but being unsure of how that would work with a baby and not wanting to feel like he was abandoning us. The guilt in his tone makes it clear he’s specifically referring to me, but that is all water under the bridge by now. At some point in the discussion, I wriggle out from underneath Julian and pace around the room. Asra asks if I’m okay. I assure him that yes, I’m fine, just needed to get up, and he goes back to what he was saying. 

While I’m wandering around aimlessly, I point out that most people manage a baby with only two adults all the time - and some do it by themselves - so Julian and I should be more than capable of managing while Asra is away. 

“Not to mention a lot of our customers have come to expect to see some of the rare things you find on your travels in the shop. It’d be a shame to lose that market,” I add, referring to the upper-echelon of Vesuvia who drop in to buy curios and build rapport with the “Countess’s magicians”. Whatever influence they hope to gain through this is obviously a lost cause, but it’s great for our bottom line nonetheless.

Julian agrees empathically and makes a whole, unnecessary speech about it. By the end, the Asra and I are laughing and joking along with him. Although the prospects of raising a little one are still daunting, I feel much better about it.

Asra gets up to make lunch. Julian and I follow him to the kitchen only to be shooed away on account of three people literally being too many cooks for our tiny kitchen space and both of us being particularly useless in terms of culinary skills. We return to our pillow pile in the reading room. Julian flops down first and pulls me into his lap, cradling me close to his chest. He kisses my forehead and is beaming when he pulls away.

“I can’t believe that I’m going to be a  _ dad _ , of all things. If you had told me that last year, that you, Asra and I…” Julian trails off and shakes his head. “Are you certain though? I know you did your reading, but would you want to try something a little more, ah, scientific?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, there’s this... technique that I heard of women using in a village a little north of Praka back when I was in medical school that is supposedly effective. It uh, involved barely seeds, and, uh...” Julian blushes as he explains the rest of the procedure.

“I think I’m okay with trusting the Arcana,” I say, trying to not sound disgusted. Julian nods and squeezes me close. I slide my hand up his chest and behind his head to pull him down into a kiss. When we separate, I catch his bottom lip between my teeth, tugging gently. He groans as I release it, and I can feel him starting to get aroused as I wiggle in his lap. Julian inhales sharply, and I’m reminded of the  _ incident  _ in Nadia’s carriage. Julian must have had a similar thought, as he picks me up and places me back on the cushions soon after. I whine and try to crawl back into his lap, but he’s already standing. Quickly excusing himself, he bends over, kisses me on the head, and goes upstairs. 

By the time he returns downstairs, I’ve already set the table and Asra has finished preparing lunch. It’s a tangy tabouli salad with pita bread and it’s delicious. Julian and I tell him as much, making sure to thank him for cooking again. Asra says that he’s happy to do it if it means that we don’t light the kitchen on fire. Julian and I feign offence and the conversation manage to make its way from playful teasing to steamier subjects quickly.

“While I was in Nopal, Saguaro invited me to dinner with his extended family, and afterwards, his nieces and I camped out under the stars. They had some  _ suggestions _ that I’d like to try out if you two would be up for it,” Asra says with a sly grin.

“Well, I’m a man of  _ science,  _ Asra. Of course I’m up for some experiments. What do you say, dear?” Julian asks me.

I nod. I can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy over Asra camping with strangers, but I swallow it and remind myself what a huge improvement this is for him. He met new people and opened up to them - something he never would have done without some serious prompting last year.

“Excellent. I’ll need a moment to prepare, so if you two would like to get everything ready upstairs, I’ll be up when I’m done.”

With no instructions on  _ how _ to prepare, it’s clear having us go upstairs is less about prepping and more that he doesn’t want us to see whatever it is before it’s ready. How suspicious. However, I trust Asra knows what he’s doing and wouldn’t bring anything unsafe into our home, much less our bedroom. 

Getting everything ready materials-wise doesn’t take much time. Just a handful of towels, a fluffy blanket for aftercare, safety shears, and a few lengths of red rope. I wrap the cord in my hands and instruct Julian to strip and sit on the bed. He sheds his clothes quickly and without any of his usual showmanship before sitting on the edge of the mattress. I feel a warm flash of arousal when I see how hard he is already. 

“What… what should I do now?” Julian asks. His breathing is already heavy, and his voice lacks its usual jaunty tone.

“Just sit still for now,” I say and brush my fingers under his jaw. He swallows and nods. I lean over and wrap the centre of the rope just above his ankle. Then, I shove his heel back against his ass, wind the rope around his thigh and calf several times, knot the top rung, weave the rope from top to bottom, and mirror the knots on his outer thigh. The way Julian is watching me with eyes the size of dinner plates just exudes submissive energy. 

“Am I doing okay? Do you need me to, uh..” Julian asks. 

“You’re doing wonderfully. I’m sure Asra will be pleased to see you trussed up like this.”

I work on repeating the bind on his other leg. He makes a small noise when his ankle hits his ass. 

“You’re doing so well staying still, Julian,” I say as I continue with the knots. When I’m finished, I pat the top of his bent knee and kiss his thigh. Julian hums, leans back, and crosses his wrists above his head.

“Do you want me to tie your wrists too?” I ask.

“Do whatever you like to me, darling.” 

“Do you want me to tie your wrists?”

Julian looks around the room for a minute, avoiding looking at me. His chest, ears, and cheeks turn a light pink, and he bites his lip. Although I know the answer, I’m willing to wait for it if it means making him squirm.

Eventually, he nods. 

“Yes?” I ask.

“Yes,” he whispers. 

“Sit back up then.”

Julian struggles to push himself back up and has to catch himself from flopping over, but manages to sit upright on his own. 

“Behind your back,” I say. He complies without a second’s hesitation. Sitting behind him, I wrap his arms together tightly but make sure I can still slip a finger underneath the rope. The bind is basic and looks disjointed without a chest harness, but the last time I tried one of those ended in a tangled mess that I panicked and cut him out of. Reintroducing rope bondage has been a long, painful process after his hanging, but I’m proud of our progress even if it looks a little strange at this stage. I make a line of kisses up his bound arms and tell him how proud I am of him. He shudders at the praise. When my lips reach his shoulder, I pull him onto his back, and he hits the mattress with a soft “oof”. 

I crawl around Julian and between his open legs, place my hand on his inner thigh, and drag my palm down the taut muscle. He looks at me meekly and curls himself up as much as he can as if he were trying to take up as little space as possible. My hand trails over the curve of his ass, but halfway to his cock, my fingers trace over a hard, flat circle. I tap it wordlessly and narrow my eyes. Julian cocks an eyebrow and grins. This wasn’t for me to discover, I assume.

“So this is what you ran upstairs to do earlier?” I ask.

“Well, er, not  _ just _ that, dear,” Julian says, looking a little flustered. 

“Not just what?” Asra asks. I jump and Julian turns a deeper shade of red. Neither of us had heard him come up the stairs. I leave my place between Julian’s legs to turn around and look at Asra, who is holding a vial of a questionable looking, mostly clear liquid. He catches my question before I have the chance to ask it.

“It’s aloe. Mostly,” Asra says with a sly grin. “I can’t tell you the rest; that’d violate the sacred rules of sleepovers.”  

I have to force my jealous impulse away again. There is nothing for me to be upset over. I pull Julian up by his shoulders and tug on the rope around his thigh. 

“Want to check?” I ask. Asra nods, sets the vial down on the mattress, and inspects Julian like he were livestock at the market. He points to one of the knots on the first leg I tied, explains what’s wrong with it, and adjusts accordingly. Julian whimpers as Asra tugs on the knot and looks at him with something that could be mistaken for fear without context. 

“You look lovely, Julian,” Asra says as he strokes Julian’s cheek.    

“Lovely and useful. Look,” I say and push Julian onto his side. He gives no resistance and flops onto the mattress again, and is nothing but plaint as I roll him onto his face with his knees tucked beneath his stomach. Asra looks him over, sees what I’m referring to, and laughs softly.

“Well, that certainly saves me the effort of prepping you,” Asra says.

“Of course, dear, you know how much I love being helpful,” Julian says, wiggling invitingly. Asra puts his hand over the base of the plug.  

“Slow,” Julian whispers, sounding suddenly much timider. Carefully, Asra pulls the plug out and sets it on a towel on the floor. Instead of immediately fucking or fingering Julian, Asra trails his fingers down the long curve of Julian’s spine, over his ass, and draws squiggles down his feet. Julian laughs uncontrollably and squirms until Asra returns his attention to a less ticklish body part.  

As much as I love watching Asra tease and caress Julian, it’s getting to the point that I can’t ignore my own arousal pulling at me. I yank off my sleeping clothes, slip a hand between my thighs, and moan as I stroke my clit. Asra and Julian look over at me. Asra smiles and returns to his work on Julian, but Julian stays watching me intently. 

“Darling, please, let me-” Julian is cut off by his own moaning. Asra slipped a finger inside Julian as soon as he had started talking, which he was undoubtedly waiting for him to do. Asra fingers him for a moment, and Julian shakes almost violently in response. His eyes pinch shut, but when he opens them, he looks at me almost desperately. Asra relents and kisses Julian’s lower back.

“Please, darling, let- let me, let me help,” Julian finishes when he catches his breath.

“Only since you did such a nice job asking,” I say. I grab his hair to lift his head, scootch beneath him, and put his head down on my pussy.    

Julian wastes no time sliding his tongue over my clit, switching between long strokes with a flat tongue and fast flicks. My thighs squeeze his face, covering his ears, so all I can see of him are his nose, his closed eyes, and the bouncy red curls my fingers are buried in.

“Julian, that’s- ah!-  _ perfect,”  _ I say between gasps. “Yes, yes that’s  _ perfect _ . Ju-just like that, that,  _ god, yes _ .”

Julian hums with satisfaction at the praise and I my fingers wrap a little tighter in his hair.  Suddenly, he stops and moans loudly and high-pitched while his whole body tremors. I prop myself up on my elbows. Apparently, Asra had started fucking him while I wasn’t paying attention. Julian tries to go back to what he was doing, but the strokes are erratic and broken up by every type of noise he’s still capable of making.

“How does it feel?” Asra asks.

“Cold!” Julian squeaks before making another attempt at licking my clit. It’s then that I notice Asra’s vial laying half-empty next to Julian’s leg. He must have intentionally waited until I was too caught up in my own pleasure to pay attention to what he was doing. 

“Anything else?”   
“Tin-gle-y.” Julian’s voice is shaking and each syllable sounds like it had taken extreme effort. Asra makes a small noise in acknowledgement that I can barely hear over Julian.

Despite everything, Julian continues making every attempt to get me off, but his ability to do so without moaning and shuddering is so inconsistent it’s almost teasing. He’s trying so, so hard to be good for both of us, but there’s only so much his body can handle, even if he would never admit it. Julian shifts his weight slightly and presses his thighs closer to his stomach. I can probably guess what he’s trying to accomplish. 

“Julian, is your neck okay?” I ask. “It’s at a weird angle.” Asra stops immediately to give him a chance to answer.

“It’s, it’s fine, keep going,” Julian says. 

“Are you sure?”

Julian breathes heavily for a moment. “Actually no, there’s a lot of weight on it with my arms like this.”

“You need to tell us that right away, Ilya,” Asra chides as he makes quick work of the binds on Julian’s arms. Once they’re free, he slips his hands under my thighs to balance himself.

“I, uh. Sorry,” Julian says, sounding sheepish. He pushes back against Asra. “ _ Please  _ keep going.”

Asra grips Julian’s hips and thrusts forward, making Julian crumple against me. Julian says something, but it’s impossible to make out between his whining. His tongue slides over me again, missing my clit entirely and only grazing it on the downstroke. It’s almost unbearable seeing him debauched and shaking between my thighs with only fleeting touches. I roll my hips up against his mouth, and his tongue quickly flicks across my clit for a few seconds before he’s overwhelmed by what Asra is doing again. Asra leans over him with one forearm on Julian’s back and the other sliding up his neck and into his hair. He quickly jerks his arm back, pulling Julian’s head from my lap. Julian is cross-eyed and panting. Below his nose, the whole lower half of his face is covered in fluid. 

I glare at Asra and pull Julian back down to me. Asra lets go, shooting me a teasing grin. I run my other hand through Julian’s hair and pull it with both hands. This seems to be motivating as his ability to stay on-target improves, or at least it does until he pulls away to breathe.

“M-more,” Julian begs. The noise he makes when Asra obliges him is so high pitched it’s almost a squeal. His voice is always so different when Asra is inside him compared to when he's inside me. I can finally hear the low groans Asra is making even though Julian is much, much louder. 

“Please- please, oh god, can I, can I,” Julian starts.

“Can you what?” Asra asks though the look in his eyes tells me it's not a question he needs an answer to.

“Come, can I, can, can-”

I reach between my thighs to pick up where Julian left off, but he returns to his work as soon as he notices what I'm doing. 

“Hasn’t that gotten you into enough trouble already?” Asra teases. His face is betraying his cool tone, and his eyebrows scrunch up and relax every few thrusts. Of course, Julian can’t see that with his face between my thighs though.

Julian whines, and for the first time, I notice how strong his grip on my hips is. Under normal circumstances, he’d be too worried about hurting me to hold this tightly, but now he’s a total mess.

“Please,” Julian groans. “Please,  _ please, _ ”

“Since you’ve been so good,” Asra says and reaches beneath him. Julian is completely flushed and practically throwing himself back at Asra with every thrust. He doesn’t bother to try to talk, which is probably for the best since everything is coming out as almost screaming at this point. I can’t see it, but I can tell when Julian starts coming by the rhythmic way his whole body spasms. Asra stops to let Julian ride out his orgasm. By the time he’s finished, his forehead is pressed on my lower stomach, his hands have relaxed against my hips, and he’s gasping for breath. Asra waits until he’s breathing almost normally to start thrusting again. Julian gasps and tenses up, fingernails digging into my skin. His face is scrunched and every muscle is flexed as he braces himself to be overstimulated. He’s trying his best, but he’s shaking and sounds like he’s near tears. It’s too much for him to handle for long. 

Asra must sense this as well, and he pulls out after a few more thrusts. When he does, Julian  _ finally _ starts going down on me in earnest. His tongue swirls around and across my clit, and the pressure is finally enough to do something for me. I moan and stroke his hair as a couple fingers find their way inside me, curling up toward my belly button. On the periphery of my attention, I hear Asra groan as he strokes himself to completion and comes on Julian’s back. Julian pauses for a moment then goes back to what he was doing. Julian lifts his head up, turns, and wipes his mouth on the upper arm supporting his weight. His fingers slide out of me and glide up to my clit. Somewhere next to me, Asra flops on the mattress and kisses my shoulders, working his way up my throat.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, love,” Asra says as his lips go back down my throat and move to my clavicle. 

Julian looks up at me lovingly before sliding his fingers back into me, kissing the centre of my pelvis and trailing his tongue down. Meanwhile, Asra licks and kisses his way to my breast, letting his hand trail up and down my midsection. After all the waiting and unintentional teasing, finally having the attention - the  _ pressure _ \- I need feels incredible. Asra tries to say something to me, but I’m too caught up in my own pleasure to care. I flex my feet to stave off the growing heat in my soles that I know always precedes an intense orgasm. Everything in my body goes rigid, and I press Julian’s face firmly against me, not that he would have moved anyway. My legs kick out involuntarily, and I finally,  _ finally  _ get my release.

Julian slows down when my muscles start spasming, and Asra holds me until it’s over. When I’m spent, I feel limp and very sleepy. Julian pushes himself upright and undoes the knots around his legs with Asra’s help. I force myself to get up and run water over a washcloth for Julian while he tries to not spill anything else on the sheets. Where I come back, Asra is standing next to the bed holding a fresh sheet and Julian is lying face-down next to his mess while he waits. I clean Asra’s now sticky come off Julian’s back, and he murmurs something that sounds like “thank you” into the mattress before getting up so we can change the sheets.

Once the bedding is changed and everyone is cleaned up, the three of us pile back into bed. Julian is in the middle, as usual, and Asra and I are curled up on either side of him, making sure to praise him and let him know he's loved. Although it wasn't anything even remotely close to the rougher stuff we've done, Julian has had bad sub drop from less, and we're all still a little raw from everything that's happened since yesterday. It doesn't take long for all of us - Julian included - to fall asleep.

 

A few hours later, I'm the first to wake up, so I shrug on a nightgown, grab the dishes I had left up here earlier, and sneak downstairs. I deposit them in the sink, use a little magic to clean them up, and set them out to dry. Since Asra and Julian will hopefully be asleep for the next few hours and everything is caught up around the shop, I decide to spend my alone time with the deck. Inside Asra's bag, I find the cards and take them to the reading room. I inhale deeply and focus on my magic, the card's energy, and my intention. Against all odds, I somehow managed to get pregnant without really trying, and as exciting as it is, I can’t deny I have my worries. 

I pull three cards, lay them face-down on the table, and flip the first card. No surprise, it’s the Empress again. The second is the Five of Cups; if it weren’t followed by the Sun, I would be more concerned. But still…

There’s a faint rapping at the shop’s door. Hoping it’s not an angry customer here to complain about us being closed again, I hesitantly peek out the window. A man dressed in a palace servant’s uniform is holding a carefully wrapped box and looking impatient. Figuring it must be something important for Nadia or Portia to send a someone all the way down here to hand it off, I answer the door. 

“Courtesy of the palace,” he says and nearly shoves the box in my hand before walking away. Confused, I quickly close the door and bring the package to the counter. Upon inspection, I see it has all of our names on it, so I decide to wake the other two up to open it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't share much project-wise, but I'll be working as a contributor for the (SFW) dinzine on Tumblr later this year! Here's a link: https://dinzine.tumblr.com/
> 
> The artists and other writers working on this are so talented! It's such an honour and I'm so hyped for it! ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )


	8. Lazy Evenings

When I get upstairs, Asra is already sitting up in bed and yawning.

“Is someone downstairs? Faust said she heard someone at the door.”

Faust wriggles out from under the covers in Asra’s lap. “ _ Awake!” _

She’s always so helpful. I can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, a package from the palace.”

“From Nadia or Portia? Who’s it for?”

“Not sure, and all of us, I guess. I came to wake you two up so we could open it together.”

Needing no further prompting, Faust slithers over Julian’s face. “ _ Morning! _ ” She says, even though it’s still early evening.

Julian shrieks when he wakes up and nearly throws Faust across the room but catches himself before she leaves his hand. Faust looks almost smug, or as smug as a snake can look, I suppose, and winds up Asra’s arm. 

Asra gives her a quick scratch under the chin and says, “Let’s go downstairs. Your sister and her fiancée sent us a gift.”

The two of them begrudgingly get out of bed, put on their sleeping clothes, and follow me downstairs. The box is fairly wide but not very tall. It’s not heavy either, despite its awkward size. Julian pulls a knife out of his pyjama pocket - who the hell sleeps with a knife?  - and opens the box. Inside there are two large sun hats, a folded up parasol (which explains most of the box’s width), two gowns, a pair of tan pants, and a pale, pink, long-sleeve shirt. 

“Oh, these must be for Portia’s birthday party. They must be planning on having it outside, I suppose,” Julian says as he inspects the parasol.

It’s easy enough to tell for whom each outfit is meant. The brightly coloured peach and pink and purple asymmetrical gown is Asra’s; the sheath gown in pearlescent blues that shimmer like water is mine, and by size alone, the pants and shirt are obviously for Julian. Embroidered flowers of every colour and size cover Julian’s shirt. It skirts the edge of class and gaudiness and perfectly captures Julian.  

In all honesty, with everything else that’s been going on, I had almost completely forgotten Portia’s birthday was tomorrow. As it so happened, her party lined up exactly with what should have been the start of my cycle. I don’t mention that though. Instead, I suggest that we all try on our outfits, but Julian insists that it would only ruin the fun of putting them on the first time, so we hang them up to let out any creases.  

Dinner that night is light and consists of bread, cheeses, and fruits that we graze on in bed while we read and practice magic. Julian sits up on his knees and shows us a spell he’s been practising and manages to hold a tiny ball of light in his hands for half a minute before he loses control and it blinks out. Asra slides his hands under Julian’s and he tries again, only this time it’s too big and too bright, and it disappears in a flash. They try a few more times until Julian can hold it on his own. Faust emerges from somewhere and slides past everyone’s toes before sneaking off to her little burrow of blankets and scarves. It’s raining outside, so Malak is nested in a corner inside somewhere. 

The three of us are casually curled up around each other as the rain patters against the window, and it’s so peaceful that I don’t even realize that I’m falling asleep until I  wake up to a commotion in the middle of the night again. 

“Julian?” I say as I snap my fingers to illuminate the room in candlelight.

“Oh, sorry.” Julian is laying stiffly on his back and looks very uncomfortable. I wipe his forehead with the heel of my palm.

“Bad dream?”

Asra turns over and yawns. “Is everything alright, Ilya?” 

“I… yes, everything is, uh, fine.” His skin is flushed and he looks like he’s seen a ghost. 

“Do you need water? Should I make some of Mazelinka’s soup?” I ask.

“No! No, it’s fine. Really, I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure? It’s really no problem. I can just-”

“I’m alright. Promise. I’m sorry I woke you; please don’t get up.”

“Okay...” I place my head on his chest. His heart is going a mile a minute and his breathing is heavy. It’s a lot, I know, for all of us. I wish there was something I could do to help him relax. He can’t sustain himself on such little sleep regardless of what he says. “We love you, and it’s okay to let us take care of you, you know.”

Julian nods. Asra kisses him on the face, rolls over, and goes back to sleep. I curl up on him more fully, sweeping my knee across his midsection just above his hips. Julian gasps, and suddenly everything clicks. I yank the blanket away and reveal Julian’s hard cock barely peeking out from the waistband of his pants. He was clearly trying to hide it. The light bounces off of the thin line of precome rolling down the tip. Asra rolls over again, looks down, and then back up at Julian. He rolls his eyes and hits Julian across the chest with a pillow before pulling it over his own head.

“Or did you have a  _ really good _ dream?” I ask. 

“I… we have to get up in the morning, dear.” 

“Hmm. It looks like you were going to stay up anyway.”

“Well, I, er…”

I grab him by the shaft and jerk up slowly. Julian lets out a surprised groan and instinctively thrusts his hips up. 

“Darling,” he says, “this really isn’t necessary.”

“Mhmm.” I stay relatively slow and tighten my grip on his cock. He’s already so worked up that I wonder how long he’s been doing this. Perhaps he has more self-control when it comes to his vocalizations when he’s by himself.  

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” He asks. He’s biting his lip and refusing to look at me, but he hasn’t asked me to stop or nudged me away. 

“Shouldn’t  _ you _ ?”

He shudders and bumps into Asra, who pulls the pillow off of his head and flips onto his side, facing Julian and me. He’s trying to scowl, but his cheeks are flushed with arousal. Asra grabs my wrist.

“If it’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait until morning, let him take care of it,” Asra’s tone is stern. I pull my hand away and wait. Asra looks at Julian expectantly and nods toward his cock. “Go on then.”

Julian looks utterly abashed, but hesitantly picks up where I left off, doing almost exactly what I had been doing to him.

“What were you doing before we woke up?” I ask. 

Julian pinches his eyes shut. “Uh… this.”

“No, you weren't. Show us.”

He whines a bit and picks up the pace. His strokes are shorter and focus more on the head of his cock. He twists his wrist when he gets to the top and moans through his teeth. Asra’s fingers are doing figure-eights across Julian’s chest and circling his nipples. Julian’s hips buck into his own hand, and he soon gets into a smooth rhythm of hips up on the downstroke, hips down on the upstroke, and back again. 

“What were you dreaming about, dear?” I ask. He looks like he wants to hide under the blankets.

“It… it’s not… what I was thinking about when I was-” Julian stops mid-sentence to moan. It’s hard to tell from the genuine noises he’s making, but I’m certain he’s just trying to avoid finishing his sentence. His face scrunches up uncomfortably, and I wonder if I’m pushing him too much.

“It’s not what you were thinking about when you were doing  _ what _ ?”

“I… I was…” More moaning. Julian makes a show of looking messy as he thrusts particularly aggressively into his hand. Now I’m sure it’s theatrics.

“Hmm?”

“I was… you know…”

“We have no idea. We just woke up and you were sweating and breathing heavy,” Asra says looking devilishly at him.

Julian’s cheeks and chest and ears are all stained a bring red, which looks even more dramatic in the low light. “... touching myself.”

I feign a gasp and cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh my. Why were you doing that, I wonder?”

“I…” Julian squirms a little and bites his lip. His humiliation clearly isn’t at the forefront of his mind right now, but it’s still there. 

Asra gestures at the cock in Julian’s hand. “Slow. Slower. Good. Now answer the question.”

“It’s… this is, it’s embarrassing.” He pauses like he’s expecting us to respond, but we don’t. “I was thinking about being tied up…  _ Oh, god.  _ Can I go faster? Please?”

“No.”

Julian whines a little but keeps his pace. “About you two tying me up and making me watch. And... not being allowed to... participate.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it, Ilya? You can speed up if you’d like,” Asra teases.

“Wait,” I say. Asra and Julian both look at me. I slide my index finger through his bead of precome and  Asra is curious, and Julian...“You need to answer  _ right away _ when you’re asked a question. Doing all of this” - I make a wide gesture with my hand- “is being bad.”

I pinch the tip of his cock hard between my thumb and forefinger. Julian makes a startled, choked noise and squirms, leaning up into the touch.

“I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t mean… I want to be good.”

“Then be quiet.”

I push his hand away with mind and pump hard and fast. He bites his lip to keep back a moan. He’s struggling but manages to stay silent. I decide to up the ante and quickly take the head of his cock in my mouth. Then he can’t resist moaning and bucking into me. His hands twist in the sheets and he looks so overwhelmed with pleasure. Still, he was told to be quiet, so I very gently graze my teeth over the shaft as I sink further down his cock. His feet kick a bit and his legs fold toward his torso. 

“You’re supposed to be quiet, Ilya. Remember?” Asra says and grabs him by the face. “Maybe I should help you be good.” He roughly pulls Julian in for a kiss, and I start moving up and down his cock in earnest. I can hear the humming of Julian’s muffled moans against Asra’s mouth. Julian’s hips pulse ever so slightly into my mouth as he struggles to fight the urge. His fingers are practically digging into Asra’s back like Asra is the only thing keeping him grounded as I flick my tongue across his cock. 

All of a sudden, Julian pushes his face away from Asra and groans, loud and deep. His whole body shudders and he looks at me slack-jawed and desperate.

“ _ Oh, oh god.  _ I’m - I’m going-” Julian says just before I feel his cock twitch in my mouth and notice the familiar taste of his come. I back off and press his cock toward his belly button, letting him spill onto his midsection. When he’s done, he looks at his freshly painted tummy with something close to disgust and starts to get up to wipe it off. I put my hand on his shoulder.

“No. You didn’t do what you were told, so now you get to sleep in it,” I say. Julian makes a small disgruntled noise, but he’s too tired to really argue. Asra kisses the top of his head.

“Try to get to sleep now, okay?” He says and turns over on his side. 

I curl up on a dry spot on Julian’s chest and stroke the soft hair there until I feel his breathing slow to the point that he must be asleep.

The next morning, I wake up to Julian - again - cursing himself as the scrubs the now-dried come out of his body hair.  If I didn’t know that last night would probably be what he jerked off to next time, I might feel bad about it. 

A note in the package the palace sent told us to expect a carriage around midday, so we still have plenty of time. Asra and I linger in bed a while longer, and Julian brings us coffee and some cut fruits. We eat slowly and eventually force ourselves out of bed. 

By the time Asra and I have finished bathing, Julian is already dressed and offering Malak a cherry from our breakfast. We run our hands through our hair to dry it. Asra’s hair looks fluffy and perfect, as usual, and mine is a huge mess, as usual. It’s probably still too early to get dressed, but we do anyway. Asra’s gown fits him perfectly; it’s cinched at the waist but billowy. Part of me hopes it’s windy out today. 

When he’s finished getting dressed, Asra does my hair in a low, braided roll so it won’t interfere with my hat. Julian sits on the bed next to us and reads while Asra works. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that, instead of his usual long black gloves, Julian is wearing fingerless lace ones that barely cover his tattoo.

“Are those from Nadia?” I ask, nodding toward Julian’s hands. Asra scolds me for moving, and I quickly apologize.

“Oh, these? Yeah, they were tucked into the shirt pocket. Came with a matching eyepatch, too. Want to see?”  

Asra pauses so we can both watch Julian put it on. He almost looks like he has a tiny doily attached to his face, but I like it. Julian gets up to check himself out in the mirror, and Asra finishes my hair before slicking back his own.

After everyone is ready, we still have plenty of time to kill before the carriage arrives, so we go downstairs and inventory the herbs in the shop while we wait. We’re still missing silphium, no surprise, but we’re running low on a few other important ingredients too. Asra and I make a list. 

We get about halfway through our supplies before there’s a knock on the door. Julian answers it and greets the palace driver. Asra and I run upstairs to grab Julian's parasol and our hats. Faust is curled up on top of Asra's, and he leaves her there to bask on the brim. Julian is talking the driver's ear off at the door. We leave the shop, and Asra gives Julian a quick pat on the ass as we walk past him and head off to Portia's birthday party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly not super thrilled with this one... but it's been a month, so it's time to stop stressing over it so I can finally move on to the birthday party (；⌣̀_⌣́)


	9. Canopies

It doesn't take long for us to notice that the carriage is either taking the most roundabout way to the palace or going somewhere else entirely. Julian tries to ask the driver where the party is, but he politely tells us Portia insisted it be a secret. We take turns guessing possible locations, and after a while, it's clear Asra's guess was correct; we're headed to the docks.

As the carriage approaches the beach, we ride past a crowd of villagers standing behind a cordon. We're going slowly enough that I can hear a few folks trying to bribe the guards to let them pass. Off in the distance, brightly coloured tents that look like leftovers from the masquerade pepper the shore. Next to me, Julian gasps and nearly launches himself out the carriage window.

“Holy shit. Would you look at that,” he says.

Asra and I quickly see what has caught his eye: a large, ornate ship waiting to be launched into the sea. The carriage takes us as close as it can get and slows down. A handful of servants converge on us before we're even fully stopped. None are wearing the typical palace uniform, and I don't recognize any of them. A tall woman opens the door and helps us out. She then offers to carry Julian's parasol for him, but he declines, assuring her that he's more than capable of doing it himself.

We’re led down a canopied path toward the shore, the boat, a raised platform, and the array of tents. The servants seem pushier than usual and about a half dozen approach us to ask if we need anything before we reach the party. Julian doesn’t seem to recognize any of them either, or at least he hasn’t greeted any by name, which would be pretty unusual for him.

We barely make it into the first tent when we’re greeted by someone passing out champagne flutes. I try to decline when it’s my turn to take one from the platter, but the bright-eyed man is so insistent that I end up with a drink anyway. Julian gives me a concerned look and makes a face like he’s about to lecture me over it. Asra must have sensed it too because when I turn to look for him, he’s already disappeared into the crowd.

“Ilya!” Portia’s voice carries over the babble of dozens of conversations. It must be from all her practice making announcements in the town square. She’s tiptoeing and making big motions for us to come find her across the sea of people. I grab the crook of Julian’s elbow and he wordlessly snakes us through the crowd. He glances back at me every now and then, eyes my glass, and gives me another disapproving look. I haven’t sipped it and don’t intend to, but the faces he keeps making are annoying to the point that I almost wish I could.

“Ilya!” Her voice is sing-song and loud as we get closer. She’s practically crawling up Nadia to get to a better view. When we're close, she rushes in and gives him a bear hug. His drink threatens to slosh out of the glass.

“What do you think?” She asks when she lets him go.

“Lovely as ever, Pasha.”

He compliments her dress - a frilly pink thing with a plunging neckline and expensive lace edging - and she lifts up a ruffle to show us a tiny embroidered cat she secretly had the seamstress add. Asra and Nadia are chatting a few feet away, and we slowly make our way back over to them. Nadia is wearing a dusty purple gown that ties around her neck and is only very strategically opaque. Her heels make her tower over Portia, but that doesn’t stop them from holding hands while they talk. A servant quickly fills their free hands with glasses.

“They’re a little, uh, enthusiastic today, aren’t they?” I ask.

Nadia nods and sips her champagne. “Portia wanted to ensure that all of the palace servants could enjoy the party unimpeded, so they were given the day off. The staff who are working are all on loan from Consul Valerius’s estate.”

“Hence the uniforms?”

“Hence the uniforms.”

Nadia and Portia both drink. I spin my glass around awkwardly between my hands.

“Did you see the boat outside?” Portia asks.

Julian points toward the shore. “That thing? How could we not? Did Praka lend it to you for the party?”

“Lend? No. That ‘thing’ is my birthday present from milady.”

I’m about to ask why she still calls Nadia “milady”, but the suggestive look they share when she says it is all the answer I need. Julian blushes and looks into his champagne.

“Well. That, uh, certainly is… quite the birthday present,” he says.

“Mhm! And it’s going on its maiden voyage after we make our announcement.”

“Announcement?”

“Portia!” A very drunk guest shouts as she cuts through our circle and barrels into Portia for what I assume is supposed to be a hug. “Your birthday! Happy birthday! Congratulations! And congratulations about-” the woman lifts her eyebrows and nods toward Nadia, who rolls her eyes. The woman turns and faces the rest of us, who are blankly staring at her. She plucks a glass from the platter of a passing server. “A toast! To the happy couple!”

The six of us clink our glasses. Julian downs his entire drink like a shot. I bring the rim to my mouth and let the bubbles touch my lips without drinking it. Julian stiffens next to me. He sets his empty glass on a nearby table, and I put my full one next to his. The drunk woman pokes a finger into Julian’s chest.

“This is your brother, right? Oh _my,_ your whole family is full of cuties, I see.” Her finger trails down Julian’s shirt. He takes a step back. “No, wait, didn’t your brother, you know,” -her finger drags a line across her throat and she sticks out her tongue - “last year?”

Portia grabs the woman by the shoulders and spins her around so they’re facing each other again.

“Can you do me a big, big favour?” Portia asks. The woman nods. “Good. I need you to wait by the carriages for a woman around this tall. She has dark hair and should be wearing a navy blue dress. When she gets here, tell her that I said she should give you a good spooning and to come find me. She’ll know what it means. Okay?”    

Thankfully, she agrees and waddles out of the tent. Julian picks up my wine glass and downs it as if to emphasize how taxing the whole interaction was. Portia furrows her eyebrows.

“You switched glasses,” she says.

Julian sets my now empty glass back down on the table. “Huh?”

Portia turns to me and speaks softly. “I don’t mean to pry, but… is everything okay? You didn’t drink at the palace last time either, and no one just turns down Golden Goose without a good reason. Nadia and I are starting to get worried.”

I turn to Julian helplessly. The only reason we know - if we can even say we know at this point - is because of the cards. I won’t even be “late” until tomorrow… and there’s still nothing saying I didn’t misread everything and my cycle won’t show up today and ruin my dress. The big news is definitely not something I’m ready to share with anyone else, but I don’t know what to say. I look to Asra for help only to realize that he and Nadia are nowhere to be found.

Julian leans in, his voice barely above a whisper. “She has a blood condition.”

“A blood condition?”

He nods gravely. “It’s relatively benign, but we have to be careful about certain things for the time being. But it’s completely treatable, and we’ve been doing leechings every other night, so no need to worry. She’ll be right as rain in no time.”

Portia scoffs. “Leeches? Really?”

“Why, Pasha, leeches have more medical applications than I can count. You can ask Doctor Satrinava if you don’t believe me.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway” - she turns to me again - “if there’s anything you need, like a new doctor maybe, I’m sure Nadia would be more than willing to provide it.”

He guffaws, rolls his eyes, and places a hand over his chest. “You wound me. Though, if that’s a standing offer, we might take you up on it if things haven’t... changed in a couple months.”

I put my hand on Julian’s and squeeze. “That’s very generous of you, Portia, but I’m sure Julian is more than capable of handling it at home. He’s more skilled than he gives himself credit for.”

Julian looks taken aback. “I think it would be wise to seek outside help, darling. Besides, I wouldn’t mind taking a more supportive role with the, uh… blood… condition.”

“There’s no one else I’d rather have as my doctor, love.”

Portia is peering at us askance but says nothing.

Julian looks as uncomfortable as I feel. “Perhaps we should discuss this another time…?”

One of the servants they borrowed from Valerius runs up to us panting, bows to Portia, then bends over with her hands on her own thighs.

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, milady, but the Countess is looking for you. She wanted me to tell you…”

While we’re all paying attention to the flushed serving girl, a pair of hands grab me on either side of my waist. I jump, but before I can turn around, I hear Asra’s voice against my ear.

“I think we ought to punish Julian for keeping us up last night, don’t you?”

Julian and Portia are still fixed on the poor girl who is frantically trying to give directions and catch her breath.

“What did you have in mind?” I ask.

“Well, I thought he had a pretty good idea… for once.”

I nod and a warm shiver runs down my body at the memory of Julian desperately stroking himself last night. The serving girl and Portia head off, and Julian turns to me.

“There you are!” Julian says when he sees Asra holding me from behind. “I was starting to get worried. They have a table for us at the front for the announcement.”

“Announcement?” I ask hoping I won’t be chided for not paying attention when he asked the same thing literally just a few minutes ago.

Julian wags his ring finger on his left hand. He’s beaming as he motions for us to follow him toward the stage that’s been set up by the shore. Thankfully, Julian is tall enough to see over the crowd and lead Asra and me behind him.

Through some miracle, we get through without Julian stopping to talk to someone every 30 seconds and a different servant leads us to our table. Mazelinka and her quartermaster, Ketos, are already seated at our table, and a servant is clearing what looks to be like more than a few drinks from between them. They seem to already be a little drunk, but I can’t say I’m not glad for it. Ketos, at least, looks a lot more approachable than the last time I met her. Julian sits to her left, followed by me and then Asra. Although he declined, there’s an empty seat reserved for Muriel between Asra and Ketos just in case.

“The hell you’d send that nosey bitch to talk to me for?” Mazelinka asks Julian after we make our greetings and sit down.

“Me?! That was all Pasha’s doing!”  
“Pasha? Bah. You never were a good liar, Ilyushka. I don’t wager we’ll see much more of her tonight though.”

Julian lifts an eyebrow. “Show her the working end of that spoon of yours, eh?”

Mazelinka laughs and flags down a serving boy who brings us all drinks that look a little stiffer than what’s in the delicate flutes being passed around. The other four sip their drinks.

“What do you think of that ship?” Julian asks no one in particular.

“Wouldn’t do much good in a fight. It’s a pleasure ship for sure.”

Ketos makes a crude joke about the _pleasure_ ship, and Mazelinka whacks the back of her knuckles with her spoon.

“Best watch your mouth. That’s _my_ Pasha you’re talking about.”

Ketos apologizes and the tension passes quickly.

“Pasha said she’d let me take it out for my birthday if I behave myself.”

Mazelinka laughs. “You? Behave? Ha! Doubt she’ll have to make good on that promise.”

He smirks and shrugs in response but can’t deny it. The conversation dies down a bit, and it looks like they’re getting ready to take the stage.

I pull Julian down and whisper in his ear.

“When we get home, Asra and I are going to tie your hands to the bed and make you watch as we fuck in your lap.”

Julian’s face flushes and he looks over at Asra, who is smiling wickedly.

“Would you like that?” I ask. “Would you like being tied down and helpless as Asra makes me come over and over inches from your cock while you can’t even touch yourself?”

Julian clears his throat and nods. I give him a gentle nudge to sit upright. He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, and I can only imagine what that looks like behind the tablecloth.

“Drink, drink!” Ketos says, gesturing toward my glass. “It’s free booze! It’s not a party if you don’t make the most of it!”

“Oh, I will!” I lie. She laughs. Mazelinka looks me over and smirks. One of the palace servants I recognize, a close friend of Portia’s according to the introduction she gives, takes the stage and begins thanking everyone for attending. Julian shoots upright in his chair, scoots forward so his body is flush against the table, and looks at Asra with complete shock. I have my suspicions, but…

“Oops!” I say as I elbow my glass off the table.

Before a dozen servers converge on the spill, I throw myself on the floor and magically dry the wine. Then I very subtly peek under the tablecloth. Asra’s shoes are under his chair, but his feet, notably, are not. I drop the edge of the tablecloth before one of Valerius’s servants puts me back in my chair and whisks away the empty glass. Once I’m re-seated, I slowly lift my foot until I find Asra’s outstretched legs which are running perpendicular to me and pointed directly at Julian. Both of them are watching as Nadia takes the stage, but the flushed, almost pained look on Julian’s face tells me he’s not really paying attention. It doesn’t take much to guess where Asra’s feet are stepping.

Julian pinches his eyes closed, makes a fist on the table, and lets out a quiet, shuddering sigh. Asra, on the other hand, looks as attentive as ever. He claps when he ought to clap and cheers when he ought to cheer.

Portia is called to the stage, and the audience applauds uproariously; it’s mostly her friends in attendance after all, and few, if any, are of noble enough birth to care much about decorum when they’re excited. Asra must have let up on Julian because he’s whooping with Mazelinka and the quartermaster. Nadia embraces Portia before announcing their engagement. The crowd goes wild. Mazelinka and Ketos stand to cheer, and although Julian is as vocal as the rest of them, he stays seated.

“No standing ovation?” I whisper in his ear.

“I, er..”

Asra and I join the others on our feet before he can formulate a response. Portia is in tears and smiling. Julian stands in a weird hunch over the table, puts his hands on the sides of his mouth, and hollers. Nadia lifts a hand and a hush goes over the crowd at once. We all sit back down. Asra wiggles in his seat, and Julian’s eyebrows knit together. He muffles a yelp in the back of his hand. Mazelinka pats him on the shoulder.

“It’s alright, Ilya. Pasha’s in good hands,” she says.

Julian pretends to wipe his eyes and nods. Nadia finally addresses the elephant in the room - or rather, the giant boat behind her - and announces that Portia will be christening it.

After some fussing from the servants, Portia and Nadia get to the dock, and Portia grips a bottle of Golden Goose by the neck.

“I dub thee, S.S. Pepi!” She yells. There’s a loud crack as the sound of the bottle breaking on the ship’s hull reverberates through the tent. The crowd goes wild, and Julian, Mazelinka, and the quartermaster all breathe sighs of relief - though I notice Julian’s is more than a little shaky.

A cadre of sailors and Valerius’s servants help them board, and not long after, they set sail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU where upright book 21 ends very differently, I guess. (눈_눈)
> 
> Ah well. Knew it would happen. C'est la vie. (っ•﹏•)っ
> 
> Sorry the updates have been taking so long; had some requests (which I love, btw) and kept getting distracted (づ◡﹏◡)づ


	10. Skirts

“Well, that was fun, but we really ought to get back to the shop, shouldn’t we? Wouldn’t want to all get sunburns out in the sun all day. Too much sun exposure can be very damaging,” Julian says as soon as the ship is just a tiny blip on the faraway waves. 

“Julian, you have a parasol and we’re under a canopy. Besides, we haven’t even been here two hours. Do you really want to go already?” Asra asks.

I pull Julian down to whisper in his ear again. “Or is the idea of being tied up and teased making you eager to get home?”

Julian shivers slightly and his gaze moves from me to Asra. “Y-yes.”

“You know,” I say, lips brushing past the tip of his ear, “as soon as you stand up, everyone will be able to see what a horny little  _ whore _ you’re being.”

“But - perhaps we should stay for another round?” 

Asra smirks and lifts his hand to call over a servant. When one approaches, he whispers something to her. She scurries off for a moment before returning with a tray of champagne flutes. Mazelinka, Ketos, Julian, and Asra are all given identical glasses. It’s barely noticeable, but the one she sets in front of me is slightly shorter and wider than the rest although the contents look to be the same. Cautiously, I bring the rim to my lips and sniff the drink. It’s apple juice. No alcohol. Asra winks at me, and I take a sip. 

Julian doesn’t notice. The way he’s white-knuckling his glass makes me worried that he’ll shatter it  à la Valerius. Maz and Ketos are too wrapped up in their own drinking to notice anything either. Julian curses under his breath and downs his drink as quickly as possible. Asra, on the other hand, takes his time with his, only taking little sips here and there while chatting and making Julian squirm. He swirls the last of his drink in his glass while taking long looks across the table, daring Julian to try to rush him. He doesn't. 

Eventually, Asra finishes his glass and sets is down while Julian watches intently. With just that look I can practically hear him pleading to go home.  

“Darling, I hate to go so soon, but my blood condition is making me feel a little faint.  Do you think we could go home?”

Julian leaps at the chance. “Of course, dear. I wouldn't want you to over-exert yourself in your state.”

Mazelinka shoots him an unconvinced glance, so he offers to explain it in detail later. 

When we stand to leave, it's clear that Julian has mostly dealt with the evidence of Asra's teasing, though if you really looked, you could see the faint outline of his hard cock covered by his suspiciously untucked shirt. We make our goodbyes and head toward the line of carriages. Julian and I trail behind Asra, who is weaving us in and around crowds of people chatting and dancing under the canopies.

Julian hurries into one of the waiting carriages while Asra and I tell the driver where to go. We get in and sit opposite of Julian. No one says anything until driver closes the door, but judging by the way Julian is looking at Asra and me, it’s obvious he's hoping for a redo of the last time we were on our way to the palace. The carriage lurches forward, and we brace ourselves to keep from toppling over. Once we’re stable, Asra leans over and whispers in my ear.

“You really do look stunning,” he says. 

I turn to him. “And I had only the most beautiful magician in Vesuvia as my escort.” 

Asra blushes and looks taken aback for half a second before regaining his typical, coy air.

“Hmm. Well, it looks like our good doctor wouldn’t disagree with either of our assessments.”

We both look over at Julian, who is staring at us with his hands pressed firmly against his knees. He blushes and looks at his lap. Asra kisses the side of my neck and chuckles quietly. I gasp and let out a breathy moan as his lips work their way up to the sensitive spot under my jaw.

“Oh, look how desperate he is already,” he whispers to me. I refocus my attention to Julian, who is starting to visibly sweat.

“Are you too warm, dear?” I ask. “I can do a spell to -  _ mff _ .”

Asra nips my ear, and I can’t finish my thought. Julian closes his eyes and bites his lip. I slide my hand up Asra’s farther thigh and grab his ass, pulling him toward me.  His hand slides across my cheek to turn my face to his and he kisses me. His lips are soft and gentle against mine, and I have an urge to drag him into my lap. I pull away and press my lips to his cheek. 

“Darling,” I say quietly enough that Julian can’t hear. “I think I know how to  _ really _ set him over the edge.”

“Oh?” 

“Mhmm. Lean back and put your feet up on the seat.”

He does. The mischievous glint in his eye lets me know that he’s fully aware of what I’m going to do. I look back over to Julian, who is watching wide-eyed and silent as I crawl underneath Asra’s skirt. With a little negotiating with Asra’s legs, I manage to pull off his underclothes and toss them on the floor. Julian’s breath hitches, and I can’t help but smirk at how enthralled he must look. Asra’s cock is already mostly hard before I put it in my mouth. He makes a quiet groan as I suck on the tip. I hear Julian whine. I wonder what he's thinking. 

I pull off and rub my tongue back and forth over the tip of his cock.

“Under… lick underneath, love…  _ ugh, yes _ , right there. Perfect.  _ Perfect.” _

Asra's hips tilt up just slightly as he moans and dictates how he wants me to touch him. He makes something that sounds almost primal as he jerks up suddenly, and he doesn't need to say anything else for me to understand. I take in as much of him as I comfortably can and he groans. 

“Oh, love, that feels amazing. You feel so good with your tongue - _ aahnn-  _ with your tongue wrapped around me like that. Yes, that's it. Just like - _ oooh, oh! -  _ just like that.”

I continue doing the things that he so clearly is enjoying. Somewhere outside of my closed little world, I hear Julian clear his throat.

“May, uh. May I, perhaps, er.” His voice is cracking and quiet. “May I maybe, ah. Watch? Please?”

Asra pulls the hem of his skirt over his hips and exposes me to Julian. My hair is a mess, and I have about three-quarters of Asra's cock down my throat. 

“Oh god,” Julian whines. I look over at him, and he is pawing at himself over his trousers. I pull off of Asra's cock so my lips are just centimetres from kissing the tip.

“Julian,” I say. He looks at me pink-faced and needy. I say his name again. “Watch,” I instruct before taking a deep breath and taking all of Asra's cock down my throat. It's choking me and I feel my body protest, but I force my nose to the white tuft of hair above his cock anyway.

For a moment, I can't tell whose groans are whose.  Asra's hips twitch up, and I can sense the restraint he's using not to grab the back of my hair and thrust into my mouth when I pull away. However, self-control seems to be the furthest thing from Julian's mind as he is now almost frantically grabbing at himself. 

“Oh my,” I say while letting my fingers tail over the sensitive spots near Asra's hips. “Julian, you really  _ are _ looking for a repeat of what happened last time in Nadia's carriage, aren't you?”

Asra props himself further up on his elbows. “Oh? What mischief did you get into this time, Ilya?” 

Julian looks flustered but undeterred. “I, well. We, er. Last time…” He swallows and looks at the floor. “We, I mean, she. She, uh, and...”

“Out with it.”

“She, er. She sat in my lap on the way to the palace.”

Asra's eyes narrow as he smirks. He kicks a leg over my head and adjusts his skirt so he can sit up.  His hands grab my waist, and he hoists me into his lap. For a moment, Asra is quiet as he nonchalantly gathers our skirts to our hips so he can adjust me to straddle his bare thigh.

“Like this?” Asra asks.

Julian nods. “Yes.”

“Hmm, well this seems innocent enough-” Asra's eyes narrow as he smirks. “Unless that's not all of it.”

Julian fumbles with his words for a moment, and Asra's hand sneaks under my skirt to rest on my inner thigh.  

“Ilya,” Asra says. Julian looks up. “Don't you want to be good for us?”

“Yes!” The response comes a little too quickly. Too eagerly. “I want to be good, I mean.”

“Then get on with it.”

“I- she sat in my lap, and I… got a little carried away."

Every inch of visible skin on Julian's body is tinted a deep pink. Asra's not letting him off the hook that easy. 

"Oh? How so?" His hand retreats from my thigh and he presses two fingertips to his tongue. 

Julian can't seem to figure out if he wants to follow Asra's hands or bury his face in the seat cushions. 

"Well, I, er. Finished."

"Fully clothed?"

Julian's voice is barely a whisper when he says yes. 

“You should try wearing dresses. Makes these things a lot easier,” Asra says. His fingers deftly slide beneath my underclothes and over my clit. I gasp. Julian whines. Asra’s fingers stroke my clit again, and I bite my lip to keep from making any noise. Without looking, he finds the right way to touch me to make me shudder and grind my hips into his leg involuntarily. My skirt falls back down below my knees, obscuring the obscene things Asra is doing to me from Julian’s view. I throw my head back against Asra’s shoulder and press my weight into him. I try to force myself to remember if anyone put a sound-dampening charm on the carriage when we got in. It would be just like Asra to “forget” and see how long it would take to break me. I screw my eyes shut and let my breath out in short, jagged puffs to keep from moaning. 

A hand grabs the hem of my skirt and gently lifts it. Then there’s a quiet smack, and the fabric drops. I crack my eyes open and see Julian’s hand hovering limply over my dress. He moves to pick my skirt up again, and again, Asra slaps his hand away.

“You know, the more impatient you are, the longer you’re going to have to wait,” Asra chides. Julian makes a pained face.

“Please, I won’t touch, just let me-”

“Begging isn’t being patient.”

Julian cringes and bites his lip. A sudden warmth radiates against my clit, and it feels so incredible it takes me a moment to register that he’s using magic to heat up his fingers. For all his talk of being patient, using magic sure seems like taking a shortcut. I press against him harder than before, desperate for more. 

Asra’s mouth is on the side of my neck, kissing and licking and biting down the slope to my shoulders. When I finally can’t hold off any more, my voice is high pitched and shaky. 

“ _ Ah!  _ Asra!”  

I can feel his smirk pressed against my shoulder. Julian shivers as if it were him in Asra’s lap and grabs at himself more fervently. 

“That’s not being patient either, Julian,” Asra says. His fingers pick up the pace against my clit. It’s more arduous than ever to keep from tipping off our driver to what’s going on. 

“You look so pretty wound up and waiting,” Asra says. “Both of you.”

“Damnit, Asra,” I hiss between clenched teeth. “Goddamnit, just  _ fuck _ me already!”

He laughs. “Is that what you wanted? You only had to ask, love.” 

His hands are on my waist again, and he lifts me up for a second to shift our underclothes before pulling my bare hips over his. I wrap one leg around each of his and put my hands on Julian’s knees for balance. Julian is watching us with an undeniable desire. His whole demeanour announces just how restive he’s getting. I feel Asra's hand moving between our bodies, and he carefully tilts my hips forward the tiniest bit then pulls them back down on his cock. I'm wet enough to take him fully without any discomfort. Asra groans quietly as he slides into me to the hilt and laughs when I let out a pleased, shuddering sigh. 

Julian's cock looks painfully restricted in his pants. I let my hands slide up and down the tops of his thighs, pushing forward with each of Asra's thrusts into me. Asra's hand that isn't guiding my hips finds my clit again, and I curl up so my face is between Julian's knees. I'm shaking, moaning uncontrollably for Asra, and if I'm right about him electing to not use a dampening spell, anyone passing outside would be able to hear it. Julian palms his own crotch again. He looks over me to Asra. I can't see his expression, but I can imagine it was less than encouraging. 

"Asra, I can't. This is  _ torture _ . God, I just," Julian is panting, and I notice him tugging down the waistband of his pants. "This is too much to just  _ watch _ ."

Julian's hand disappears beneath his underclothes, and Asra laughs. He's getting me close as he picks up the pace with both his hands and his cock, but I somehow muster what control I still have of my limbs to nudge Julian's hand away and grasp his cock. Surprisingly, Asra doesn't protest or try to interrupt. Julian looks at me with the same expression he had when we introduced him to the magical snail for half a second before screwing his eyes shut and melting with a loud, blissed out moan. The muscles in my body coil tightly, too tightly for me to jerk him off, and I can tell I'm more seconds from coming when Asra suddenly stops everything, pulls me off of him, and drops our skirts.

Although I'm frustrated and confused at first, I suddenly notice the carriage slowing down and make a frantic effort to fix my dress and my hair. Julian opens his eyes and realizes what we're doing and why then quickly tucks himself back into his pants. Julian and I are pink, panting and coated with sweat, but Asra looks as cool as ever. The carriage slows to a crawl and eventually stops in front of our shop. 

The driver comes around, opens the door, and gives us an uncomfortable, cordial smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the horribly slow updates. Promise I'm still here and still working on my WIPs! Studying has just kinda eaten up all my free time the last few weeks. ( ; ω ; )
> 
> Finally got a chance to take a break and write some smut though ╮(￣ω￣;)╭


	11. Lapsang Souchong

When we step out of the carriage, Asra smiles and thanks the driver, but Julian can’t manage to even look him in the face and starts fumbling around for his keys. I beat him to it and unlock the door. We all stop and take off our shoes. Faust slides down Asra’s arm and sneaks off. I wonder where she had been hiding during the journey back home and feel a little embarrassed, though I know she’s seen much worse. Such is life without eyelids, I suppose. 

“Julian,” Asra says. “Make some tea and then meet us upstairs, please. There’s lapsang souchong on the second shelf in the spice cabinet.”

Julian agrees and goes straight to the kitchen. Asra motions for me to follow him upstairs, so I do. He leads me to the edge of the bed, cups my cheek with his palm, and kisses me. His free hand roves down my back and starts undoing my dress. I pull back with his bottom lip between my teeth and start working on his. He groans and pushes the straps off my shoulders, and I straighten my arms to let it drop to the floor before I finishing undressing him. 

“I know that look,” I say. “What are you planning?”

“Julian wasn’t very patient today, was he? Insisting we leave early… couldn’t even wait until we got home to start touching himself…”

“Well, no. You’re right; he wasn’t.”

“So maybe he needs a little more practice.” 

Although I think I get his meaning, the silks, the ropes, the handcuffs are nowhere in sight. 

“How do you plan on keeping him from just getting himself off?” I ask.

“You’ll see.” Asra smiles, kicks his garments to the corner, and lies prostrate on the bed with his head at the foot of the bed. He kicks his feet in the air behind his back and props himself up on his elbows. I give him a bemused look, and he pats the space next to him. I lie down. Asra motions for me to turn onto my back, so I do. He holds himself over me with one knee between my thighs and kisses my breasts. His teeth tug at one nipple, and he tweaks the other between his fingers. If the cards are right, I wonder how much longer he’ll be able to do that before they’re too sensitive for it to be bearable. His fingertips meander down my body and between my thighs, touching my skin so expertly that it somehow makes me shiver without tickling me.

Asra pulls away from my chest and peers at me through the curtain of his curly hair. During times like this that I'm struck with how beautiful he is. It's hard to believe I laid next to him as chaste as if we were sharing a room at an inn with his parents for 3 years. How did I resist touching him, kissing him as he cuddled and coddled me for  _ three whole years _ ?

Though Asra is certainly making up for lost time as he sneaks his other leg between mine, nudges me so my head dangles off the edge of the bed, and slides into me.  

I groan as I feel the tip of his cock enter me. My body tenses and I meet his face for a kiss. Asra pulls most of the way out and thrusts in again. We both throw our heads back and away from each other with another groan. My hair pools on the floor beneath me, and I pinch my eyes closed as Asra starts a slow, methodic rhythm with his thrusts. One of his hands finds mine and squeezes while the other keeps him propped up. He's uncharacteristically laconic as he moves, only making unintelligible, pleasured sounds instead of his usual dirty talk.

Someone clears their throat near the stairwell. I open my eyes and see Julian holding a tray of teacups and blushing almost as deep a red as his hair. Asra looks up at him but makes no attempt to stop what he's doing. 

"I, uh. Brought tea," he says finally. 

"Oh, excellent. You can set it on the table for now."

"Oh. Uh… right."

Julian sets the tray down. He stands awkwardly next to the table and looks at us askance. I have an inkling that Asra has something in mind, but I still feel a little guilty about it. Asra must sense my apprehension as he leans down and far as gravity and our position will allow. 

"If he wants something, he knows how to use his words," Asra whispers. I look over to Julian again and notice his pants look painfully tight across the front. So this is the game we're playing this evening. Asra keeps up his slow pace and moans almost melodically on the next thrust. Julian curses under his breath, and I notice his gaze roving over our bodies. Finally, I start to feel the same teasing mood Asra does. 

"Oh,  _ Asra, _ " I moan. " _ Asra, Asra Asraaa…" _ I trail off into some unintelligible noise. 

Julian makes a quiet peeping sound in the background. Unprompted, he has gotten himself in a state partway between half undressed and fully naked. Although it wouldn't be technically illegal, he's certainly not decent for the general public. Asra grins and repeats my name to me in a similar fashion. 

Julian moans from near the side table. Asra's pulls out, kneels between my thighs, and snaps in the direction if the noise. With considerable effort (and some help from Asra), I sit up and finagle myself back on the bed. Our full attention is on Julian, who has shed everything but his small clothes and socks and has his hand hidden beneath the former. 

Despite Asra's glower, his tone is anything but caustic. 

"Do you need something?" He asks.

Julian's hand stops moving. "Room for one more?" 

Asra motions for Julian to finish undressing, so he pulls down his underwear and sits on the bed. 

"Back against the wall. Good. I hear you've been getting better with magic. Is that true?"

Julian looks at me nervously. I nod, and Julian confirms that he is getting better at magic.

"Then this shouldn't be any trouble for you," Asra says and waves a hand. An unseen force yanks Julian's hands above his head and his feet to either side of the bed. He looks at Asra, then me, then back to Asra. At first, his expression is incredulous, and then something else entirely. 

"You can join us as soon as you get out of those." Asra kisses him on the cheek, down his chest, and around his cock before lying supine on the mattress with his head between Julian's spread eagle knees. He curls his finger toward me in a "come hither" motion, so I do. I rest one hand on his chest while I adjust to straddle his hips. Asra wraps his hands around the small of my back and slides me up his body so I am hovering over his chest. So this is what he meant. 

As gracefully as I can, I move my knees over Asra's shoulders and place them in line with his ears, taking care not to kneel on his hair. Strong, familiar hands grip my ass and tug me forward. Gently, I lower myself onto Asra's face. His arms curl behind me and grip my hips. I look up and Julian and notice the way he's pulling at the invisible binds. 

Asra's tongue finds my clit effortlessly, and I'm shuddering already. Between the teasing at dinner and the carriage ride back home, frustration is starting to settle in. I push my hands through Asra's buoyant curls and yank. One of the hands on my back moves to my elbow and nudges my arm toward Julian's thigh. If Asra wants me to put on a show for Julian, I am certainly willing to oblige. 

I rest my hands on Julian’s chest, and he sighs, cursing under his breath. 

“Oh,  _ darling _ ,” he says, looking at me through half-lidded eyes. “You look-” Julian hisses as I rake my fingernails down his chest. I shudder and press my forehead to the centre of his chest.

“Oh god,” Julian says, squirming in the restraints. “You look ravishing. God, how I want to just touch you, just-”

He cuts himself off as I press my nails into him again. Anything else he would have said would have been drowned out by my moans anyway. Asra’s tongue is pressing hard and fast against me. I press myself down against him, and he teasingly nips me. I shoot up and yelp, more out of surprise than pain, and Julian looks at me almost frantically. Asra smiles against me and continues where he left off. I make an effort not to buck against him again.

“Ju-Jul-ian,” I moan. “It feels, it feels  _ so good _ . Asra feels  _ so good _ . He feels- feels-”

Julian makes a rumbling sound that I feel vibrate against his chest. Asra's tongue flicks against me a certain way, and I let out a high pitched sort of moan, trembling as I claw Julian again. Being the attentive lover he is, Asra notices and makes the same motion over and over again until I'm on the brink. 

"I'm close," I barely manage to get out. 

"God, yes, darling. Come. I want to watch - I want you to come. Goddamnit _ ,"  _ Julian pants.

Asra flicks against me once more and I am undone. I cling to Julian's ribs as I come, perhaps crushing a little too hard, but he doesn’t complain. 

Asra weasels his way out from underneath me while I press my damp forehead against Julian’s chest and try to catch my breath. Julian is pulling against the binds and groaning, whispering compliments and requests. His heartbeat is knocking through his ribs and his body twitches in anticipation. 

“Darlings, please,” he says. “You’re so beautiful. You’re both so beautiful. Stunning, even. I  _ need _ to touch you. Both of you.  _ Please _ .”

Asra crawls next to him and gives his wrists a little tug. “Still haven’t figured it out?”

Julian makes a frustrated sound in response and tries to pull his arms down.

“Shame. Excuse me, love,” Asra says as he shuffles me back a few inches away from Julian and slips in front of me and between Julian's thighs. Asra’s back is flush against Julian’s chest, who is wiggling and presumably rubbing against anything his cock can reach.

Asra’s soft hands grip my hips and pull me onto his lap. 

“Are you ready to keep going?” He asks.

I nod and realize what Asra is inviting me to do. In one smooth motion, I crouch over Asra, grab his cock to get all the angles correct and sink all the way down on him. Julian’s jaw drops as he watches, awestruck, as I ride Asra in his lap. Asra moans, throws his head back against Julian’s sternum, and looks up at him with the crown of his head pressing against Julian’s solar plexus. Julian bites his lip and cranes his neck to look down at him, then up at me as both Asra’s and my fingers dig into his skin. 

“Oh, that’s  _ perfect _ ,” Asra says. “Julian, this feels so good. She feels so good. It’s-” he bites his lip, closes his eyes, and makes a noise that’s somewhere between a sigh and a moan. 

“Please, Asra, please, please,  _ goddamnit _ , Asra!” Julian started tugging frantically at his binds. “I need it. God, it  _ hurts _ . Please,”

“You have to learn to do it yourself, Ilya. How else will you learn if we do everything for you all the time?” Asra wiggles against Julian’s chest as if to emphasize his point.

“Besides,” I add, “It’s a really simple spell. See?” I flick my wrist and the invisible forces pulling his legs apart release. Julian closes them as much as he can with Asra and I sitting between thighs and whines. “Your turn!” I say and flick my wrist again, forcing his legs back open.

Julian curses and pleads under his breath, but I ignore it and refocus on riding Asra. Judging by the concentration on his face, he’s suppressing his orgasm. Although he reached this point a lot faster than usual, I know well enough to not be concerned about Asra finishing anytime soon. Julian, however, looks as pressured as a shaken fizzy drink from the masquerade and is trying to free himself in earnest. 

“Julian,” I say. He breaks his concentration to look at me, and I lick his shoulder and the bottom of his neck, the only places I can reach with Asra uncomfortably squished between us. It’s enough to set him off though, the poor man, and he’s back to moaning and begging for either of us to free him or touch him or  _ anything _ .

“Oh, love, you’re so good at this, I could come already,” Asra says, though I have a feeling it’s not for my benefit. He goes into detail with exactly how it feels to have me riding his cock, telling me how much he likes watching himself disappear inside of me. 

Julian whines, his voice desperate and aching. “Please,” he says. “Please, please, please,  _ please _ .” 

“Hmph. Always so needy, Ilya.” Asra makes a quick gesture and Julian’s whole body tenses up. His mouth hangs open as he makes some of the most wanton noises I’ve ever heard from him and his eyes almost go cross. I snort trying to hold back my laughter at the ridiculous face he’s making, though I don’t think he would have been able to hear it anyway. I am not sure what, exactly, Asra did, but I know that face well enough to take a guess. 

Asra allowed Julian no more than a minute of relief before breaking the spell. Julian makes an almost gurgling, growling sound and wriggles as much as he can. I cup Asra’s face and ignore Julian’s theatrics. 

“Are you ready to come?” I ask. 

Asra lets out a long, breathy moan as he says yes. “May I?”

I nod and position my knees so I can ride him hard and fast, paying no mind to how uncomfortable it must be for Julian. I slide up and down as quickly as my thighs will let me, and Asra grips Julian’s skin. 

“Fuck, I’m almost... I’m - I’m almost… there...”

I keep my pace steady until Asra’s body tightens and relaxes over and over. I feel his cock twitch inside of me, and he finally settles back into Julian’s chest. Asra pulls me close, bringing my chin to his shoulder and vice versa. I steal a quick look up at Julian, and his expression is shrouded in lust. We make accidental eye contact and I wink, making Julian grimace. 

Asra and I sit there a moment with his cock still fully inside me, and I can feel the space between us getting sticky as gravity pulls his come back to the base of his cock. Just as the mess starts to get uncomfortable, Asra summons over a towel and hands it to me as I get up. I pull off of him and flop back on the bed with the towel tucked between my thighs. Asra cleans himself and joins me, curling up on my chest and trailing his fingers down my sides. 

“Do you give up?” Asra asks looking over at Julian. He nods. Asra waves a hand toward him, and his arms and legs fall to his sides. He looks at us like an apprentice does on the first day in a guild. We go back to cuddling, and Julian crawls over to meet us, timid and uncertain. He snuggles in on the other side of me so I have one on each side of my chest. His leg wraps around my thigh, and I can feel his hard cock pressing against me. The friction, the pressure, something must have set something off inside him, because as soon as his head touched my skin, he shivered and began frantically thrusting against my thigh.    

“Please, dear, it feels as if I’ll explode if I can’t be inside you,” he croaks. Asra giggles and props himself up on his elbows to get a better view of Julian desperately rutting against my thigh. 

“Well, that’d hardly be fair,” I say. “Asra had to go down on me first, after all.”

Without further ado, Julian practically dives between my thighs and laps at me like a dehydrated animal at an oasis. 

“How does my come taste?” Asra asks. Julians groans in lieu of responding all the while continuing to thrust against the mattress. Despite my desire to make him clean up all of the mess from my first round with Asra, my clit is more sensitive than is comfortable, so I tug Julian’s already wild red hair so he’s looking at me.

“Good boy,” I say. “You can come inside if you’d like.”

Julian scrambles to reposition himself so his cock is where his face was, and his face is squished against the mattress above my head. The majority of his weight is pressing on my body, and his arms squeeze behind my back, crushing me into him. His hips suddenly snap against mine, and he thrusts roughly, almost aggressively into me for all of about 10 seconds before tensing up and shouting as he comes.   

Even when his orgasm ends, his body continues to shake like a china shop during a thunderstorm. Asra hands me a towel, and I shove it between our squashed bodies. 

“Asra,” Julian pants, “what… what was that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Asra’s eyes say quite differently though. 

Julian tries to get up, but his arms give out from underneath him and he stays quivering on top of me. He tries to say something, but it comes out gasping and garbled and Asra shushes him. Despite the towel between us, both of our bodies are still slick with Julian’s sweat, so Asra dabs at our helpless, dishevelled doctor with the corner of a sheet.  

When he can finally manage it, Julian rolls off of me and stretches his long limbs out over the duvet. 

“Can you believe the ship Nadia bought Portia? It was incredible,” Julian says.

“Of course. I helped her do research for its design,” Asra answers.

“Nadia  _ designed  _ it?” -Julian flops a hand over his still racing heart- “It’s absolutely gorgeous. Couldn’t take my eyes off of it.”

“Oh, we know. I could hardly tell if your whimpering was because of the boat or whatever Asra was doing.”

Julian makes a breathy, laboured laugh. “Say what you will, but you’ll both be grateful when we get to take it out for my birthday. Pasha already offered.”

Asra smiles and pushes back the damp hair plastered to Julian’s forehead. 

“Whatever you say, dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, just finished my big exam, so hopefully I'll be able to get back in the swing of things writing-wise ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶   
> I know it needs more editing, but I've been sitting on it for so long already. Hopefully there aren't too many glaring issues; I'll definitely do a better job looking over it this weekend (つω`｡)


	12. Boat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MC throws up at the beginning. It doesn't get too graphic, but if you're particularly squicked by that, feel free to start after the text break. ┐(´･～･｀;)┌

When Julian’s birthday rolls around next month, I am in no shape to be going anywhere, let alone a ship. The bedroom is still pitch dark when I wake up with cramping in my gut and tingling in my throat that I know means I have about 30 seconds to get to the bathroom. I toss off the blankets, dash into the bathroom, and crumple on the floor. 

“Darling?” I faintly hear Julian call between retches. “Are you okay?”

I continue vomiting in lieu of a response.

“Oh my,” he says. “Here. Let me get your hair.” 

My stomach continues purging itself of whatever remains of our dinner while Julian gathers my hair behind my head.

“I brought water,” Asra says from the doorway. My throat is burning and my eyes are stinging with tears by the time I get a small enough reprieve to catch my breath. Fumbling a little, I drink the glass as quickly as possible. Only a few minutes pass before I throw it up. 

“Julian,” I say when my stomach calms down a bit. “You’re not allowed to cook anymore.”

Julian snorts and rubs my back. “I don’t think the pierogies made you sick. It’s probably just a bout of morning sickness; however-.”

I retch again, but not even water or bile comes up this time.

“Isn’t it a bit early for that?” I ask when I’m finally able to speak.

“Ah, no, not really. If we got the dates correct, it should be just about time for it actually… but that doesn’t mean there isn’t something else going on. Asra, do we have ginger downstairs? Or lemons?” Julian asks.

“Yeah, I think. Want me to go get them?”

“Yes, please. And toast if you wouldn’t mind. And maybe an herbal tea?”

Asra yawns and says “uh-huh” before the creaking stairs signal his departure. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Awful.”

“I’m sorry, dear. You’re shivering rather badly; are you cold? Shall I get you a blanket?”

I shake my head.

“Are you feeling faint at all? Dizzy?”

“A little.”

Julian is quiet and presses the back of his hand to my forehead. A few seconds pass and he pulls it away.

“Doesn’t feel like a fever. Do you have any pain around-” Julian looks down at his midsection and draws a circle on the upper right side of his torso “-here?”

I tell him it doesn't.

He makes another circle lower on his stomach. “What about here?”

Again, no. 

“Hmm. Well, it certainly _seems_ like everything is in order, but I’d like to see you take it easy today just in case, and we’ll monitor how it progresses.”

I shake my head again. “But it’s your birthday, and we’re supposed to have a party on Portia’s ship.”

“And you’re already throwing up. I’d hate to see how you’d fare with adding seasickness into the mix.”

I brace myself to retch again, but the surge of nausea passes. My throat is already burned raw, and I don’t think I can take anymore. The pain and inconvenience of being sick are more frustrating than they have any right to be, but I can’t stop it. Portia and Nadia have been making preparations, and Nazali came in early specifically to celebrate Julian’s birthday... and the guest of honour has decided not to attend because someone else has a stomach bug. 

 

* * *

 

 

“But it’s your _birthday_ ,” I repeat as if this is somehow new information. “And you’ve been looking forward to it for so long. You should go, at least. I’m a grown-up; I can take care of myself.”

“Absolutely not. There’s no way I’m going to leave you here sick as a dog while I go party. We can always go another time.”

Of all days to be ill, _of course_ it would be one where we had big plans. I know it doesn’t make sense to be upset, but I’m exhausted, in pain, and my feelings are running high.

“But today is your _birthday!_ And- and-” I’m suddenly feeling weepy. I take a slow, shuddery breath to balance myself. “It’s your birthday and I’m _ruining_ it. You’ve been looking forward to this, and- and, I’m sorry. You should go. I didn’t mean-” And the floodgates open. Trembling, I hunch over with my palms flat on the floor and sob. My heavy breathing stings my throat and makes me cry harder. I barely hear Julian’s inimitable chuckle over my gasping.

“Why are you laughing at me?” I ask accusingly. When I look up at him, Julian sits in worried silence for half a second then melts into a warm smile.

“No, no, I wasn’t laughing at you, dear. I... It’s just… Here, come here.” He pulls me into his lap before I have the chance to protest. Julian cradles me against him with one arm across my back the other underneath my knees. The hair on his bare chest tickles my cheek and I nuzzle against it, still crying but quickly calming down. "How could you possibly think you were ruining anything by being sick?"

"Your birthday-"

"I've had many, and with any luck, I'll have many, many more. Portia’s ship will be there when you’re feeling better.”

Julian awkwardly curls in on himself and kisses me on the lips. His morning scruff feels coarse and chafing against my swollen cheeks. I pull away briskly, fully aware of why this scene was playing out on the bathroom floor.

“Julian, that’s so gross.”

He laughs again. “Oh, darling, I’m a physician; that’s not even in the top 10 disgusting things I’ve dealt with… even if I exclude everything involving Lucio.” 

“Are you sure you’re not upset? What about Nazali?”

“Of course I’m sure. I’m excited to see Nazali, but they’ll be here for quite some time.” The hand tucked under my knees slides up my thighs and rests on my lower tummy. “Besides, how could I possibly be anything but grateful for the sacrifices you’re making and everything you’re enduring to grow this tiny life?” 

He kisses me on the lips again. An overpowering smell wafts up the stairs, and I shove my way out of his embrace and launch myself toward the toilet in preparation, but it's a false alarm. Asra laughs from the doorway.

“His morning breath that bad?” Asra gives Julian a quick peck on the top of the head before tiptoeing past him to squeeze in beside me. “Sorry to interrupt your dramatic monologue, Ilya, but I have breakfast.” Even without looking, the smell is so powerful I could name everything he’s holding. “I know it’s not the best pairing, but I made mint tea and ginger butter toast. And soup, as some would call it.”

I wrinkle my nose, take a trepidatious bite of toast, and quickly wash it down with the glass of water still sitting on the floor.   

“Asra, what’s in the soup?” Julian asks. 

Asra yawns. “Mountain rhizomes, mostly. Goji, Slippery Elm, Caraway, a few other spices mostly for taste… why?”

Julian grimaces. “How much of each of those? Do you know if, uh, soups are safe during…?”

Asra curses and shakes his head. “We could ask Mazelinka. With her green magic, she’ll probably know.” 

“No. Then she’d know about-” I made a quick gesture toward my torso.

“Is that bad?” Asra asks.

I nod. “Too soon.”

“I could always ask under the pretence of needing to give a patient medical advice.”

“I think she’d be able to put piece it together,” Asra says.

“Hmm, perhaps. She does always seem to have a way of seeing through even my most cunning ruses,” Julian says.

Asra rolls his eyes. “And this certainly wouldn’t be one of them.” 

“No asking,” I say weakly. “If that means no herbs and no magic, so be it.”

Asra gives me a sad, worried look that I’ve seen far too many times but doesn’t protest. Julian, on the other hand, looks relieved. 

Just the thought of eating is enough to make my stomach roil, but after some more prompting from Julian, I venture a few more bites of my toast and a tiny sip of tea anyway. A hand that is too clammy to be Asra’s starts rubbing my back.

“There, good. That’s it. Take it slow. Small bites. Don’t push yourself.”

Asra excuses himself to finish making breakfast and encourages me to send Faust down if the smell starts to get bothersome. Her cute purple nose peeks out from Asra’s pyjamas, and he gently sets her down on the floor next to me.

“ _Helping!”_ Faust says as she nudges the plate towards me with her tail. All the coddling feels almost patronizing, but I try to be understanding. Everyone is on edge - nervous? Excited? - about the pregnancy, and they want to help. And yet… 

Despite his medical background, I can tell Julian feels particularly helpless without his curse. He claims to have insufficient experience with obstetrics to be much help, but I suspect he’s simply not giving himself enough credit. Having been the sole physician at his clinic in the South End for so long, he’s certainly dealt with his fair share of pregnancies and everything related to them. At least for Asra, sitting by and helplessly watching me struggle is far from a new experience, and thankfully, this time around is much less severe.  

The smell of cinnamon toast and eggs winds its way upstairs, but it’s tolerable. Julian calls Malak over, who perches on his shoulder and starts fervently pecking through Julian’s heap of messy hair. 

“Yowch!” Julian shouts and tries to shoo Malak, who is holding a half dozen strands of long, red curls in his beak, off his shoulder. The thieving bird hops around, caws in his ear - dropping his prize - and settles back where he was. “You could have just asked if-” Malak caws again.

“Aww, he just wanted something pretty to decorate his nest with,” I say.

"Is that so?" Julian laughs and scritches Malak under the chin despite his mischievousness. “Malak, would you please do me a favour and fly to the palace, find Chandra, and ask her to let Nadia know we’ll need a raincheck on our boating trip today?”

“That’s really not necessary; I’m actually already feeling better now that I’ve got some food in me.”

“Yes, and let’s keep that food in you instead of, ah, over the ship’s railing. Please, darling. Let’s just have a lazy day together, the three of us.”

“ _Four!_ ” Faust added. 

“Yes, my apologies, how could I forget. The _four_ of us” -Malak cawed again, loud and angry - “the _five_ of us, once you get back from talking to Chandra. Let’s rest today. Please?”

I’m too tired to argue, so I simply nod.

“Thank you, dear. Malak?”

Malak makes a noise that is just as dramatic but not as loud and flies out of the room.

“Ilya! Breakfast!” Asra shouts from the kitchen downstairs.

“I don’t want to overwhelm you with smells, so I think we’ll eat downstairs. If you’re feeling better, why don’t you try to get some sleep? It’s still awfully early.”

I agree, and Julian helps me stand on my wobbling legs and starts to escort me to the bedroom. When I stop to brush my teeth, Julian picks up the glass on the floor, refills it in the sink, and holds it out to me.

“Brushing so soon will damage your teeth. Have a quick rinse now, and you can brush properly when you wake up.”

Hesitantly, I put my toothbrush down and rinse my mouth instead. Julian smiles and kisses the top of my head before walking me back to bed and tucking pillows behind me to keep me from rolling over.

“Make sure you sleep on your side, darling. Can you lean this way a little more? That’s it. Good. Faust, do you mind watching her while Asra and I eat breakfast downstairs? No squeezes though, please.”

“ _Nurse! No squeeze!_ ”

Julian still can’t hear her but gives her a grateful pet anyway. I want him to stay, and I know he would if he asked, but he’s finally taking care of himself without being nagged. It feels wrong to keep him from eating when I’m perfectly capable of managing my symptoms on my own. Apparently, my memory wasn’t the only thing that was a blank slate after I came back; the fool’s body must not have had the chance to develop an immune response to human illnesses prior to me inhabiting it, so waking up vomiting was a frequent enough experience the first year. With Asra’s frequent trips, I certainly got enough practice handling it on my own. Or maybe Muriel was taking care of me then and I don’t remember.

 Before Julian gets up to leave, he leans over, tucks my hair behind my ear, and kisses my head again.

“I’ll be back up after breakfast to check on you. Try to get some rest, and make sure to stay on your side.”

“Ilya?” Asra’s head pokes out just over the bannister. “Did you want me to bring it up?”

“Please no,” I say. Julian was right; the thought of all that cinnamon being so close to me makes me feel queasy. “If you bring up your breakfast, I’ll bring up mine.”

“Of course, love. Are you feeling better?” Asra asks.

I tell him that I am. Julian gives my hand a little squeeze and reminds me to stay on my side again before heading downstairs with Asra. 

“ _Sleep!_ ” Faust says as she curls up on my pillow and rests her head on my temple.

And after trying and failing to eavesdrop on the conversation downstairs for several minutes, I do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder how much angst I can get away with in the next chapter without people getting mad? (。-`ω´-)


	13. Present

I wake up sometime later with Julian in bed beside me.

“Where’s Asra?” I ask. 

Julian stretches so the thick trail of hair leading down from his belly button peeks out and rolls toward me. “Oh, you’re awake. Asra, ah, he’s downstairs. He fell asleep during breakfast, and I, uh, didn’t think I could get him upstairs without waking him up. I didn’t leave him at the table, though. I put him in his pillow pile in the reading room after I cleaned up the syrup he spilled all over himself.”

I laugh. That certainly sounds like Asra on an early morning. Judging by the light coming through the curtains, it’s been at least a couple hours since we first woke up, but I don’t really know how long. Julian has had the chance to shave and was obviously napping before I woke up.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to ruin your birthday.”

“No, please. You didn’t ruin anything, dear. Portia is good enough of a sailor that I don't think we’ll have to worry about the ship going anywhere. Er, well. And not coming back in one piece, I mean. Besides, that certainly doesn’t keep us from getting rowdy tonight.” He shoots me his signature eyebrow waggle, then becomes much more serious. “If you’re feeling better, I mean. You are feeling better, right?”

“Right. Much better.”

“Good to hear. Do you mind if I, uh, check something anyway?”

“Be my guest.”

Julian asks me to lay on my back and pull my shirt up to the bottom of my ribcage while he crawls over me to stand next to the bed. The room is still dark, so he draws the curtains and looks me over.

“Thank you, dear. Nothing seems out of order at first glance... I’d like to do some quick pushes and taps on your belly if that’s okay.”

“Why?”

“To see if I can feel anything wrong with your organs, more or less.”

“Ah, gross!”

“Not when they’re on the inside!” Julian cringes as he realizes what he just said.

I laugh and tell him to go ahead, and he runs his bare hands down my midsection.

“Is having cold hands part of it?” I ask.

“Uh… no. My apologies; should I stop?” Julian asks, immediately withdrawing his hands and rubbing them together.

“No! No, it was just a bad joke. Keep going.”

Julian smiles and swipes down my body with his fingertips again. 

“Ah, arms stay at your sides if you don’t mind. Tell me if you feel any pain, alright?”

I nod, and Julian pokes, taps, and presses on my tummy in what would be a seemingly random order if not for his expediency and absolute focus. He lays his hands on the spot that he circled on himself earlier and asks me to breathe deeply. I do.

“Anything?” He asks.

“Nope.”

“Good.” 

Although I’m certain he’s already done whatever he’s doing between my hips, he goes over the area again slowly, painstakingly inspecting it with his hands. 

“You haven’t had any, uh, bleeding, at all, right?” Julian asks.

“Right.” I can’t help but notice how worried he looks, and I start to feel it myself. “Julian... is something wrong?”

“Ah, no, I don’t think so? I… It’s just- I, ah, hmm. Everything seems normal, but this isn’t exactly my element, you see, so I wanted to be as, uh, thorough as possible.”

“What exactly are you looking for anyway?”

“Well, anything out of the ordinary really… but I originally wanted to make sure your gallbladder was okay since gallstones are more likely during pregnancy… and then I suddenly got worried about a tubal pregnancy - not that you have any symptoms of that, I mean… You look confused.”

I nod. “Is a gallbladder like an extra bladder, then?” I ask.

Julian smiles sadly. “I suppose you would have forgotten all the anatomy you learned at the clinic, hmm? It’s a shame; you were quite good at it back when-” 

I press my hand up to my temple. The headache is tolerable but came on suddenly.

“I’m so sorry,” Julian says. “I didn’t mean-”

“No, no. It’s okay. It’s not bad, and I like hearing about what I was like before."

“Maybe I’ll have to regale you with our many misadventures sometime if that’s the case. But to answer your question, the gallbladder does… uh. Well, we’re still trying to figure that out, actually, but no, it’s probably not an extra bladder.”

“And a tubal pregnancy?”

“Do you know what a fallopian tube is?”

I shake my head. Julian pulls some parchment and a quill from the nightstand, sits next to me on the bed, and scrawls out a diagram that, despite its sloppiness, somehow looks familiar. I sit up and look over his ambiguous squiggles, and he explains the roles of each part in reproduction. 

“... And the egg is supposed to attach here-” Julian points to the round blob he drew- “but sometimes, it attaches somewhere else - like here in one of the tubes.”

“Is that bad?” I ask.

“Very,” Julian says gravely. 

“And that’s what I have?”

“No! I mean, I don’t think so. You haven’t shown any signs. But we really should get you in to see a midwife soon.”

“Julian,” I say, taking his freshly shaved cheeks in my hands. “Why don’t you want to deliver our baby? Think about it - you would be the first person to hold him. The first person he sees when he opens his eyes. The first loving touch he’d get out in the real world… I know it’s not your speciality, but I also know you’re an amazing physician, and I’m sure you could do it. It certainly wouldn’t be the first birth you’ve attended either, right?”

He looks at me a moment with sad eyes, then closes them and looks away.

“Julian?”

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “You’re right, I’ve attended a handful of births over the years. Almost all ended in cesareans.” 

Julian didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t need to. Despite my lack of general anatomy knowledge, I  _ did  _ know what a cesarean was and that neither mother nor child usually survived them.

“Darling, there are so, so many things that can go wrong, and if something does happen to go sideways... I don’t want to be the one making those decisions. Besides- ” Julian laughs dryly - “I don’t Asra would forgive me if I got you killed a second time.”

Although I want to argue with him, I know he’s probably right. I sigh and nod slowly. 

“Okay,” I say. “Do you have anyone in mind?”

Julian pulls me into his lap, kisses the top of my head, and rests his chin on my shoulder. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “Yes, I do have a few in mind who have particularly good patient outcomes.”

We readjust so I’m between his thighs and we’re both leaning back- him against the headboard and back of my head against his chest. Julian wraps his arms around me and clasps his hands in front of my hips. We rest for a moment, just breathing and enjoying each other’s touch. Before I fall asleep, I remember something that had been bothering me.

“Julian?” I say, craning my neck to look up at him.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why were you laughing at me?”

“Hmm?”

“In the bathroom earlier?”

“Oh, no, of course I wasn’t laughing at you, darling. I was just reminiscing.”

“About what?”

Julian laughs."Just a silly thing from when I was a child. Would you like to hear?"

I nod.

 “Well, when I was a boy, my parents were both merchants, so naturally, I spent almost all of my childhood before the storm on ships. Of course, being the only child on the whole ship, I got into my fair share of trouble with the crew members who were, ah, less than thrilled about having a child aboard in the first place, let alone one who always happened to be getting into things. 

Anyway, when I was about, eh, yea high-” he makes a vague gesture around chest-height, as if that’s supposed to make any sense with both of us laying down- “ I noticed that my mother kept getting sick and having breakfast in her quarters instead of the chow hall with my father and I. Now my mother, a life-long sea-farer herself, had never gotten seasick in my entire life, so being the junior physician I was, I was obviously concerned. At the time, I didn’t know it, of course, but she happened to be pregnant with Pasha, which is why she had been feeling ill. Well, one morning it must have been particularly bad, as my father stayed with her while I had breakfast with the rest of the crew. Over the meal, I managed to work up the gumption to ask one of the crew members why she was getting so seasick in the mornings.”

Julian has to pause to contain his laughter. It’s unusual for him to speak so openly about his parents, and even rarer still that he’s so mirthful about it.

“God. Sorry,” Julian says still laughing and rubs a tear from his eye. “Anyway, so I asked this helmsman why she was so sick and-” he has to stifle his laughter again- “Sorry, sorry. God, I wish I could remember exactly what he said, but it was something along the lines of her not being sick because of the sea, but rather because of the sea _ men _ . I was confused and asked him to elaborate, but of course, he didn’t. I really should have realized something was afoot by how raucous his laughter was when he was telling me all of this, but I was too indignant to figure out it was a joke. 

So I, being the impulsive nuisance I still am today, decided to confront the captain, of all people, and demanded he tell me why his crew was making my mom sick. He was none too pleased with my bothering him and sent me to my parents straight away. Needless to say, I was a bit wiser of the world after that conversation, and my mother was less than thrilled about the whole ordeal."

It takes me a moment after he finishes his story to understand the pun, but when I do, I'm gasping for air between raucous fits of laughter. In my mind's eye, I picture a shorter version of Julian vowing a lifetime of chastity and him being more horrified to learn about reproduction through a sailor’s bawdy joke than that he was going to be a big brother.

"Is everything okay?" Asra asks, yawning as he walks up the stairs. "Faust said she thought she heard crying." 

"Just from laughter, dear," Julian says.

"Good to hear. Are you feeling better?"

I nod. "Though Julian's story made me laugh so hard I nearly threw up again."

"Oh?" Asra says, quirking an eyebrow at Julian. "Care to elaborate?"

"Ah, I was just recounting when I learned about, uh, some basic physiology."

I supplement his vague response with a suggestive eyebrow waggle and a wink. Asra makes a knowing sound as he settles into bed next to us. 

"What about you?" I ask. "Did Aisha and Salim teach you about the birds and the bees?"

"I suppose, but I don't remember any specific conversation. If I had a question, they always answered it."

I, of course, have no childhood memories to contribute to this conversation, and I feel a pang of longing in my chest for a family I presumably once knew. Asra never mentioned anything, but no one has come to the shop asking after me or, if they knew of my death 5 years ago, no one has come clamouring to claim an inheritance- at least to my knowledge. I'm sure Asra would have informed me if that were the case. Probably. Maybe.

Which would be worse, I wonder to myself. To know my family was out there and didn't care to look for me or if I had no family at all? I can't shake the questions I have, but neither can I bear to ask them of Asra. Had he met my parents? What were they like? What would they have thought of our whole debacle last year? Would they be excited to meet our baby? Now is far from the time to ask, but I make a mental note to try sometime later.

"Asra taught me," I say, finally surfacing from however long I was zoned out and not completely sure if I was interrupting their conversation. "The second time, I mean."

The memory is hazy, but the topic got brought up a few months after I was resurrected when my cycle returned. I didn't know what was happening and lacked the words to express that, so I woke him up by screaming when I discovered I had been bleeding. Desperately and barely hiding his own distress, Asra tried to explain that it was normal and that I was okay with the few words I could understand.  

Asra’s cheeks colour the faintest shade of pink. "It was certainly an experience to explain those intricacies to someone I had already been intimate with. Speaking of getting intimate," Asra says then reaches under the bed to retrieve a delicately wrapped box. 

The paper is an almost shimmery black, and it's decorated with a lone, red bow tied in the corner. Asra's eyes soften with his coy grin as he twists to place the present in Julian's hands.

"Happy birthday, love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya ever get so distracted that you don't get to the smut or angst you had planned for the chapter? (;ﾞ°´ω°´)  
> Next one though, promise!
> 
> Sorry this chapter is a little awkward; it was either cut it here, do a rush job of the next plot point, or have a weirdly long mega chapter ┐(･ω･;)┌

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure how to use it, but I have a Tumblr in case anyone feels the need to send anon hate (or requests, I guess?) https://pageofcupsreversed.tumblr.com/
> 
> Feedback is always welcome! .+:｡(ﾉ･ω･)ﾉﾞ


End file.
